
Class £^^523 

Book,_©X3L_G 



3:l3 



C£P»RIGHT DEPOSIT. 




A play in four acts 
by Sidney Toler and Marion Short 



Copyrighted 1919 
by Samuel French 
All rights reserved 



Samuel French, Agent 
28-30 W. 38th St., New York, N. Y. 



Duly Copyrighted in Canada 

by Samuel French 

August, 1919 




A play in four acts 
by Sidney Toler and Marion Short 



Copyrighted 1919 
by Samuel French 
All rights reserved 



Samuel French, Agent 
28-30 W. 38th St., New York, N.Y. 



P5 3537 



©QLD 52572 



THE GOLDEN AGE 



CAST. 

LLOYD HENDERSON 
"TEDDY" FARNUM 
WILLIAM BARCLAY 
RICHARD STANHOPE 
(IIARLIE MASON 
MRS. DREXEL KIRKLAND 
ELAINE JEWETT 
TRELLA WEBB 
BATTY ELLISON 

SARAH APPLEGATE SLIi^SY 
BETSY SCROGGINS 
MRS. JOHN SIMMONDS 
MARY^ ANNE SIMMONDS 

ROGERS - ... - 

FELICE . - - . 



Of New Y'ork's 
Social 400. 



Of Farindale. 
Conn. 

- - A Butler. 
Mrs. Kirkland's Maid. 



SYNOPSIS OF SCENES. 

ACT I. . 

Sitting Room in the Simmonds.-Home. Farmdale, Conn. 
June, 1916. 
(The Bud) 

ACT II. 

Parlor of the New Hotel at Farmdale. That evening. 

(The Blossom.) 

ACT III. 

A Room in Mrs. Kirkland's Plome, New York. June, 1917. 

(A full ])lown Rose.) 

ACT IV. 
Same as ACT.L June. 1919. 
(The perfume of Romance.) 

TIME— 1916-1919. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 



ACT I. 

SCENE — Sitting room in the Simmonds' home in the 
country near Farmdale, Conn. 

Up C. stands an organ, on either side are ivindoivs 
which look out onto the yard and landscape. Doors are R. 
and L. in 2. R. leads to the stairs and dining room, etc. L. 
leads to the porch. This stands open with a stone to hold it. 
Outside on the porch may he seen the edge of a tea table 
and chair. Through the window L.C. a sign on a post reads 
Tea Room. 

The furniture is of the old fashiuned mixed horsehair 
and Mission. The floor carpeted. A fireplace R.I. ivith a 
large armchair before it. Table C. ivith two chairs and oil 
lamp with fancy shade. L. a sofa or settee. Old fashioned 
crayon family portraits on the wall and bric-a-brac in gen- 
eral keeping. A whatnot stands up in the R. corner. A 
curio case in L. corner. On the mantel of the fireplace, a 
clock, several pieces of ornaments and an old fashioned 
stone tohacco jar. 

AT RISE— It is afternoon of a bright sunny day in 
June, 1916. 

DISCOVERED — Mrs. Simmonds and Betsy with 
sleeves rolled, are dusting the furniture and putting things 
to rights. 

Miss Slissy, the village milliner and dressmaker is 
seated on the sofa L. putting the finishing touches to a rath- 
er garishly trimmed hat which she has designed especially 
form Mary Ajine. She is dressed rather extravagantly her- 
self and carries her sewing bag ivith her. 

MRS. SIMMONDS — (Continuing the conversation) — 
And she gave me no warning at all, jiist telegraphed this 
morning she'd be here this afternoon; and I'd calculated 
to hoiise-clean for a whole week. 

MISS SLISSY— Dust is terrible this time of year, es- 
pecially with the automobiles. No sooner does it settle 
from one when another comes along. — (She holds the hat 
up viewing it critically.) 

MRS. ^niMO^Ty^—'( Attacking another piece of fur- 
niture) — You'll excuse me for going right ahead, won't 
you, Miss Slissy? 

MISS SLISSY-^Certainly, I didn't come over to set 
for the afternoon, although I have been here a couple of 



THE GOLDEN AGE 



hours. I'm glad I got this hat done in time for Mary 
Anne — there, that ought to look real cute on her. 

MRS. STMMONDS— My sister will be here most any- 
time now and — 

MISIS SLISSY-^Well, you ain't askin' me to go home, 
be you ? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Of course I ain't. 

MISS SLISSY — ^Besides, I know your sister and I 
want to see what she's wearin'. In my business I try to 
keep up with the New York styles right along. 

MRS. ISIMMONDS— She'll be right glad to see' you, 
I'm sure. 

MISS SLISSY— I like to hear the news too. I thinJ? 
it's folks duty to find out what's goin' on in this world. 
How 're you go'in' to have anything to talk about if you 
don't. — (Betsij carries off a filled scrap hasket L.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Yes, I supipose. 

MISS ^lA^^Y— (Gazing at the /(aO— There, that's 
finished. Where's Mary Anne? 

MRS. SIMMOND'S— Gatherin' some lilacs for her 
Aunt's room. Mariah's dreadful fond of them. 

MISS SLISSY— Dear me, suz! All that decoration 
just fer a relative, though I s'pose her aunt havin' so 
much monev does make a difference. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— fii'espnf.s the idea)— No, it does 
not. We'd fix up just the same if she didn't have a penny. 

MISS SLISSY— Well I didn't mean to be snipity. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Mary Anne simply worships her 
Aunit Mariah — and she her, — Land! Why, wby don't 
Betsy come back 'to help me? — (Moves over L. a little, look- 
ing off French window) — Betsy ! — (Turns to Miss Slissy) — 
That girl's the laziest mortal that ever drew the I)reath of 
life. — (Calls again) — Betsv ! 

BET<SY~( Drawls off' L.)—Ye-es, 'm ! 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Come herel— (Betsy slouches in 
from L. carrying the etnpty hasket) — What do you mean 
settin' on that porch as if there was nothing to do but gaze 
at the woodshed ? 

BETSY — {Lazily) — I wasn't gazing at the woodshed. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Then what was you looking at, 
please ? 

BETSY— The hired man. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— What's the matter with him? 

BETSY — He's got new boots. 



6 • THE GOLDEN AGE 



MISS ShlSSY— (Giggles)— He IS real nice lookin'. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well, I reckon if I set you to 
dustin' the hired man, for once in your life you'd stick 
to 3'our work. 

BETSY-^Ye-es, 'm ! 

MRS. SIMMO'NDS— He's the only article you seem 
to be able to keep your mind on. Wipe off that tea ta])le. 
(Betsy wipes the table on the porch just o.utside the dour 
L.) 

MISS SLISiSY — Have many customers today? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Some, but most of the trade 
comes on Saturday. 

MIS'S SLISSY — Hovvd'ye suppose your rich sister 
will take it, you runnin' a tea shop? Most wealthy folks 
is kind 'of high and mighty. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land sakes my sister's got sense. 
Just cause she's rich, she ain't goin' to blame us for trying 
to make a little somethin' out of the summer visitors. 

MISS SLISSY— They say her husband made his 
money out of cattle, is that so ? 

MRS. iSlMMONDS^Cattle? No such tiling. He 
didn't. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, I heard he speculated in Bulls 
and Bears. I .just included them both in one name so as to 
be more elegant. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— He was a broker in Wall St. and 
made his livin' buyin' and sellin' on the installment plan. 

MISS SLISSY— Oh! 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land sakes, Betsy, don't keep 
on rubbin' like them legs had a case of rheumatism. They're 
clean by this time. Drop them curtains at the windows 
and then straighten the mantlepiece. — (Betsy rises ajid 
slowly attacl-s the lace curtains which hang at either side 
ii( the organ L.C. and B.C.) 

:MISS SLISSY— Is she comin' for quite a stay ? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— fYrxt^ at the organ up TJ- Yes. 
She's tired and needs the rest. 

MISS SLISSY— Shouldn't tliink she'd get tired; they 
say she keeps three hired girls. 

I5ETSY — (At the window L. drops one curtain) — 
Vm — and she wears silk night gowns, silk all over. 

MISS SLISSY— :\Iercy me ! 



THE GOLDEN AGE 



MRS. SIMMONDS— f To Betsy)— Let down that other 
curtain and dust off the mantle. Looks like the dirt's been 
there since Noah occupied the Ark. 

BETSY — Well, I saw 'em once — and felt 'em. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— If that girl could just roll up in 
a silk night-gown, I don't think she'd mind bein' turned 
into a caterpillar. 

MISS SLISSY— I wouldn't have thought the sister 
of a good church goin' woman like you would be indulg'in' 
in such Babylonian extravagancies as silk night gowns. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Some foulks likes 'em. 

MISS SLISSY — I wear seersucker ones that don't 
even have to be ironed. I calculate she ain't any better 
than I am. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well, it's her money and I guess 
she can do with it as she feels like. Anyhow you don't 
have to be sittin' up nights worryin' about her bein' 
Babylonian. 

MISS SLISSY — Dear me, to think of you flyin' off 
the handle like that; just because I was quotin' scripture. 

MRS. ^nmO'ND^—(SUghtlij apologetic)— I recon 
I'm nervous; gettin' cleanin' done so late. — (Betsy is stand- 
ing L. looking out of the ivindow) — Betsy! What in the 
world are you starin' a)t? 

BETSY — 1( Turns from the window) — The hired man. 
' ]\IRS. iSIMMONDS— Good Land ! Is the hired man on 
all sides of the house to once. 

BETSY^f il/oi;e to door L-;— Shall I go out and see? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— No, you'll not. Come away from 
that window. — (Betsy sighs and moves over to the mantel) 
That girl's go no more sense of humor than a guinea hen. 
(To Betsy) — Go out in the kitchen and scour up them 
pans I left in the sink; and if you find the hired man on 
that side of the house, ask him to take off his bdots so you 
can put 'em on the mantel shelf as an ornament for you 
to look at. 

BETSY— Yes, \iml— (Exits off Right quicker than 
Ksual.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I do believe she thinks I mean 
it. That girl's got no more sense of hunior than — (Mary 
Anne enters L. through the door L. She carries an armful 
of lilacs, she comes center back of the table.) 

MARY ANNE— Here they are mother, aren't they 
beautiful ? Hello Miss Slissy, did you bring the hat ? 



8 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MISS SLISSY— Yes, and if I do say it myself, it's one 
of my grandest creations. — (She holds it up for inspection. 
Man/ Anne looks at it doubtfully.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Don't you like it, Mary Anne? 

MARY ANNE— Well, isn't it a little gay? 

MIiSS SLISSY — ^Nonsense, flowers and fruits is all the 
style. And it just matches your new party dress. Are you 
going to 'the party at the Hotel tonight. 

MARY ANNE— "Mayhe.—f Holds up hat)— Which is 
the front? 

MISS SLISSY— Lt's reversible, that's the latest style. 

MARY ANNF.~( Doubtfully)— When I'm dressed I'll 
try it on. Will you have a posy? — (Gives Miss Slissy a 
stalk of lilac.) 

]\IISS SLISSY — Thanks, they say flowers brings out 
the complexion if you have any, and I always did pride 
myself on havin' considerable. — (She ruhs the lilac on her 
cheek.) 

MARY ANNE — (Puts some of the lilacs in a vase on 
the mantel; the rest stay on the tabic.)- — Dear Aunt 
Mariah. I can hardly realize that in a 'few minutes she'll 
be right here in this room with us. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Nor me. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, goodness knows 1 should think 
vou would, after all the fussin' around you've l)een doin'. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— f To Mary)— She's comin' in the 
automobile, ain't she? 

MARY AN^E— (Putting sonic fowers on the organ 
r.;— Uh-huh. 

MISS SLISSY— Tliere's a whole crowd of city folks 
expected at the hotel tonight. Billy Barclay's bringing 
some of 'em in his motor car. 

MRS. SniMONDS— (Snaps)— Yes, we knew it. 

MISS SLISSY— And 'that Elaine Jewett who was here 
two summers ago, she's with 'em. 

MARY ANNE-^(Turns at the organ suddenly)— 
p]Iaine? — (Mrs. Sinimonds glances at Mary Anne appre- 
hensively.) 

MISS SLISSY— Mr. and Mrs. Barkley ain't comin' 
down this summer and the Jewetts are goin' to occupy 
their cottage soon as it's ready. They say young Billy's 
just crazy about Elaine. 

MARY ANNFj— (Trying to cover her confusion)— 
Aren'it these lilacs beautiful? 



THP] GOLDEN AGE 9 

MISS SLISSY— They say his Pa's made so much mon- 
ey out of the 'war that he may never come here 'to live no 
more and rememfoerin' Billy used to be kind of sweet on 
vou Marv Anne, I thought maybe you'd like to know it. 

MRS. SIMMO'ND^— (Indignantly)— That's been 
more than two years ago, Sairy Applegate Slissy, and 
neither me nor Mary Anne is carin' to have you talk about 
it. 

MARY AN^E—( Proudly )~mss Slissy may talk 
about it all she likes, mother, as far as I'm concerned, 
why shouldn't she? 

^ MISS iSLISSY — Why, Mrs. Simmonds, you surprise 
me; you ain't got nothin' serious against Billy Barkley, 
have you? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— r/?fr voice trembling)— Nothin' 
except — 

MARY ANNE— *rWa/-»H;^/(y;— Mother ! 

MRS. SIMMONDS— (Impulse overcoming her)—Eyi- 
cept I don't think he's quite an honorable as some young 
men I've known. There, I will say that much, Mary Anne, 
even tho' I do know Miss Slissy '11 be sure to repeat it. 

MISiS SLISSY— Repeat it ? The idea ! 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well, I thought maybe— 

MISS SLISSY— Not honorable? Um— that'll interest 
some folks I know. 

MRS. SiyLM01<lD^—( Dusting furiously )— Bear me, 
I'd like to get rid of this dust, and — some other things I 
could mention. 

MISS SLISSY — I can remember that barn dance at 
the Hilsby's, and Mary Anne wearing that pretty white 
and blue dress I made for her. Billy danced with her the 
whole evening and all the other girls settin' around so 
jealous they almost bad a fit. — ^(8he pauses to see the effect 
of her words) — He wasn't here last summer at all, was he? 

MARY ANN:E— (With dignity)— No, he wasn't, Miss 
Slissy. 

MRS. SlMl^ONDiS— (Bursting with indignation)— 
And it's nothin' against Mary Anne if he wasn't. 

MISS SLISSY--Oourse not. I don't mean no offense. 
Rich young 'fellows are often apt to trifle with us country 
girls, not meaning anything you know. We oughtn't to 
take 'em too serious. — (She pauses again) — That Elaine 
•Tewett engaged me by letter to do some sewin' for her at 
tlie hotel, beginnin' tomorrow. 



10 THE G^OLDEN AGE 

MARY ANNE— Indeed ! 

MISS SLISSY— Shouldn't wonder, considerin' the 
way they say she and Billy Barkley have been carryin' on 
in New York last winter, it might be the weddin' trousoo. 
And that's where I shine. — (Mary Anne, absently minded, 
puts a stalk of lilac in the lamp shade. Miss Slissy observes 
it.) — Goin' to leave that there like that Mary Anne? 

MARY ANNF.— (Removes it)—l—l didn't notice 
what I was doing. 

MISS SLISSY— ^r^o Mrs. Simmonds)— Seems to me 
Mary Anne's looking kinda droopy. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— f^Snap.s;- No one else says so. 

MISS SLISSY— r To Mary Anne)— Get yourself an- 
other beau. Ain't nothing like it to chirk you up, tho' I 
must say it's easier vsaid than done. 

MARY ANNE— (^6'o^d^i/;— Thank you for the inter- 
est. 

MISS SLISSY— Oh, I'm always interested. I think 
most kind hearted folks generally are. Well, I must be 
goin'. — (She rises, the others show visible signs of relief) 
Ain't got no tea already made, have you? I don't mind 
if it's stood awhile. 

MARY A'NNF— Well— (Nervously.)— We're expect- 
ing Aunt Mariah almost anytime now and — 

MISS SLISSY— Oh, well, don't bother; but seein' 
that you'd opened a itea sliop I was just going to patronize 
you some — I '11 drop around in a few days and call on your 
sister if I get time from the sewin'. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Don't interrupt yourself to do it, 
Sairy. If it's a weddin', it'll no doulit take most of your 
time. 

MARY ANNE— Moither ! 

MISS SLISSY— r To Mary Anne)—U it wasn't that 
your Ma's run down and nervous I'd think she was takin' 
that weddin' to heart some. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well, let me tell you this, Miss 
Slissy, if any man on earth thinks he's good for my Mary 
Anne — 

MARY A^^^E— (Desperately)— Mother, PLEASE. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Excuse me, Mary Anne, I'm goin' 
out and make some heat biscuits for dinner, so if you hear 
me hammerin', you'll know what it is. — (She glares at Miss 
Slissy.) — ^Good afternoon. Miss Slissy. — (She exits off R. 
taking Mary An7ie's hat with her.) 



THE OOLDP^N AGE 11 



MISS SLISSY— rr;of.v in the door LJ— K it is Miss 
Jewett's weddin' things, Mary- Anne, I'll let you lo'ok at 
tliem on the Q.T. 

MARY ANNE— I don't care to do things on the (»).T., 
]\Iiss Slissv. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, you and your Ma needn't act 
so high and mighty even thougli you have got a ricli rela- 
tion eoniin' to visit you. 

MARY ANNE — You've l)een paid for the- hat? 

MISS SLISSY— Yes. I hope you'll like it. 

MARY ANNE— So do I. 

MISS ShlS'^Y— (Off cn(lr(l)—Ri\mp\\.—-( She exits off 
L. through the door. Mary Anne standing R. of the table 
(J. slowly sinks into the chair and buries her head in her 
arms. Betsy enters through, the door L., she has the hired 
man's new boots in her hand, she carries them over and 
carefully places them on the mantel R. Mary Anne moves 
to a sitting position and Betsy toohs at her.) 

BETSY— Ain't you feelin' well, Mary Anne? 

MARY A'NN'E— (Tries to smile)— Just ajittle tired, I 
think. — (From the kitchen off' R. comes the sound of pound- 
ing. Betsy listens, then goes to door R. and looks off.) 

BETSY — Your Ma's who'opin' mad about soinethin' 
an' she's takin' it out on the dough. — (A motor-horn is 
heard off L-) — ^Maybe that's your aunt now. 

MARY X^^t— (Rises to the door L.j- Yes, I'm sure 
it is. It's Aumt Mariah. Tell mother, Betsy. 

BETSY— Yes, '\im.—(She exits off R. Mary Anne 
stands at the door a moment, then waves her hand to the 
car which comes nearer, then she runs across the porch and, 
exits L. Mrs. Simmonds comes in from R, followed Betsy. 
She wipes her hands on her apron.) 

MRS. iSIMMONDS— Land sakes, and me all over flour, 
Run out and help her with the things, Betsy. — (She gives 
Betsy a gentle shove toward the door and Betsy exits L. 
Outside L. Mary Anne is heard.) 

MARY ANNE— Oh, you dear Aunt Mariah ! 

MRS. KmKhAND~(Outsidc )—lust the same sweet 
Mary Anne, only sweeter. 

_ MRS. SIMMONDS— rCa//4'Mc/ off L.)— There, Mariah, 
beginnin' to spoil her before you're here two seconds; 
altho' she is the best girl in the world, I ain't denyin'— 
Betsy I Bring them things into the house — ^the hired man's 
not there. I sent him down to the pasiture. — (3[rs. Sim- 



12 THE GOLDEN AGE 

monds exits to edge of the porch to greet her sister. Mrs. 
Kirkland, a handsome, ivell groomed woman three years 
younger than her sister, enters L. with her arm ahout' 
Mary Anne.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (^ To her sister J—AmsLnda, what 
is the matter with our Mary Anne, she doesn't look like her 
own bright self at all ? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Meblbe she's studyin' too hard. 
Take off your things. — {Betsy enters with, some rugs. 
Felice, Mrs. Kirkland' s French maid, follows with a satch- 
el and some golf sticks. Mrs. Simmonds speaks to Betsy) — 
Betsy, help sister off with that coat. How do you do, 
Felice. 

FELICE— Well, thank you, Madame.— (Betsy drops 
the rugs and goes to Mrs. Kirkland, takes her coat, then re- 
turns to rugs.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— fA^o^ut^ the lilacs)— For me, 
Mary Anne. 

MARY ANNE— Yes, auntie. 

MRS. KlUKhAND^f Smells some that are still on the 
table C.) — Um — the sweet old ifashioned things. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Batey, show Felice where the 
rooms are and help her with the things. — (Betsy starts R. ' 
tvith Felice-) 

MRS. KIRKLAND — (Glancing about the room, sees 
the boots 'on the mantel, she bursts out laughing.) — ^What 
are they, Amanda, antiques? 

MRS. SIMMO'ND^— (Following her gaze)— Land 
sakes if that girl ain't literally took me at my word. Bet- 
sy, has that liired man gone down to the pasture without 
his boots ? 

BETSY— Well, you told me— 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Never mind what I told you, 
mebbe he ain't gone yet, take 'em out to him, he might 
run a thorn in his foot and get lockjaw. 

BETSY — I think he's already got it. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Never mind what you think, take 
them out of here and show Felice them two front rooms 
upstairs. — (Betsy takes the boots tenderly and exits R. with 
Felice.) f 

MRS. KIRKLAND— ^9it§ L. of the table C J— Well, « 
thank goodness, I'm here and now for a complete rest and" 
a little real country life. Sometimes I envy you, Amanda. 



TPIE GOLDEN AGE 13 



MRS. SIMMONDS— You wouldn't long, when you'd 
see all the work that's to be done. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What's the idea of the tables on 
the porch? 

MARY ANNE — Why, Aunty, didn't you see the sign? 
"Tea Room" on the post at the gate? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Tea Room? No, you don't mean 
to say, Amanda, that you've turned your house into a Tea 
Shop ? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well, so many automobile tourists 
got in the habit of sboppin' for one thing or another and 
a skin' for it — and me givin' it to 'em for nothin', — ^we 
thought we might as well increase our income — ^^if there 
was increasin' to be done. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Mary Anne, I'm ashamed of your 
mother. If it wer'nt for that "Willowby pride" that's so 
strong in her, she'd have let me help her and you a long 
time ago,. I feel ashamed myself; just rolling in wealth, 
not a chick nor a child and you running a Tea Shop. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land sakes, can't a body— 

MARY ANNE— We've been happy. Oh it's lots of 
fun, auntie. And after all, happiness is the thing that 
counts. — (There is a sound off L. as a trunk being dumped 
on tJie porch.) 

MRS. ^lMMONDi^—( Looking L.)— What's that? 

MARY AN^E— (Moves up looking off L.j— It's your 
trunk. Auntie. Your chauffeur just brought it to the 
porch. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— My what ? 

MARY ANNE — Your chauflPeur, the man you intro- 
duced me ito at the car. I didn't catch his name. 

MRS. KmKLA'ND~( Laughs uproariously)— ^y 
chauflfeur! Oood heavens, I'd almost forgotten him.— f,Sf/)e 
rises and moves up calling off L. Humourously) — Oh! 
Bring it in here, Watkins. — (Richard Stanhope, son of one 
of New York's multi-millionaire's, a tall, athletic youth of 
18 years, a hoy with a wonderful sense of humor, a quality 
which Mrs. Kirkland admires and shares with him, enters 
the door L. ivith the auto trunk.) — Place it there, Watkins. 

BlCK—^f My. stifled )—Whsit's the "Watkins" idea? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— f To Mrs. Sim^rbonds)— Amanda, 
this is Watkins, my chauffeur. — (She laughs again heartily. 
Dick grins.) 



1-t THE GOLDEN A(;E 

MRS. SIMMONDS— fLor^A-.s at hitn critically)— Pret- 
ty well dressed for a ehauffeiir. 

:\IARY ANNE— ('A trifle embarrassed)— Aunty, 
you're joking. I've made a mistake. 

DICK — (Good humor edly ) — Not itecliiiically, Miss 
Simmoiids. Anyone is a chauffeur; who really "Choffs. " 

MRS. KIRKLAND— This is Mr. Richard Stanhope of 
New York who picked me up about 20 miles fr'om here 
when one of the rear wheels of my car got hopelessly stuck 
in a frost hole. This hero brought us bag and baggage 
into town. I have sent a rescuing party from the local 
garage to look after Randolph. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Pleased to meet you. I was go- 
ing to tell you to take it upstairs but now I'll wait till the 
hired man gets back. 

DICK — There is no hired in the world can carry this 
trunk as I can. Besides Mrs. Kirkland promised me a 
(juarter and I want to earn the money. — (He picl^s up the 
trunk and swings it to his sJwulder.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well seeing that you're bent on 
it. Mary Anne, show Mr. Stanhope the front room. — (Mary 
Anne moves over to R. foil owed by Dick.) 

MARY ANNE— rro i>/cA';— Funny— my calling you 
— the chauffeur. 

DICK— Miss Simmonds, you may call me anything 
you like, even to hard names. — (Mary Anne s)niles and 
liotds the door open R. They exit.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— He's a comical cuss, ain't he? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— My dear, his father is wortli 
millions and millions. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land sakes! 

MRS. KIRKLAND— He's my pet of all the younger 
set in New York. He has the greatest sense of humor -and 
not a bit affected, just — a real boy. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Is he with that crowd that are 
giving the hop at the hotel tonight':' 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I think he did speak about the 
hop. 

MRS. SniMONDS— They say the new hotel is the 
last word in sumptiousness. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Fa rnulale has needed it sorely 
I'm afraid. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 15 



MRS. SIMMONDS— Goodness I should say so. I've 
heard the Automobile folks talk about the other one. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Why are the young folks from 
the city particularly interested in Farmdale's new Hotel? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I think it was Billy Barkley's 
Pa 's money that built it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Indeed ! Well, that's something 
to his credit. The Barkley's have made a lot of money in 
tlie last two years. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Yes,' and there's an old sayin' 
tliat some folks can't stand prosperity. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Farmdale a little too small for 
them now, eh? Has it alfeeted them much? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Some. Especially their son. 

MRS. KIUKIjANB— (Laughs)— WeW, that's one thing 
they'll never be able to say of Dickie Stanhope. 

' MRS. SIMMONDS— He's a nice appearin' l)oy. Real 
kind of him to give you a lift. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I did the same thing for him 
one day last summer so we're even. — (Dick and Marij Anne 
enter R.) 

DICK— f To Mrs. Kirkland)— Any further orders, 
ina'am? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You're not going back to town 
tonight are you? 

DICK — No, staying over at the new hotel. Billy 
Barclay is giving a little party there. There's a whole 
crowd down from town. Henderson, Farnum, Patty Elli- 
son, Trella Webb. Elaine Jewett. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Um^the butterflies. Well, thank 
you ever so much. 

DICK — Not at all. Charmed to have met you Mrs. 
Simmonds, Miss Simmonds. — (Dick exits off L.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— There, I might have asked him 
to have a cup of tea. 

MARY ANNE— Yes, why didn't we? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Oh ! some other time will do, but 
I'll have some, Amanda — no not in here, let's go in the 
kitchen and I'll help nuike it. Come on, Mary Anne. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— r^s they all move to R.)—Now 
.Mariah, you never will let me help you — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— No, and you never shall. I'm 
here to help myself. — (3Irs. Simmonds exits R.) — Mary 



16 THE GOLDEN AGE 

Anne, it was sweet of- you to pick all these lilacs for me 
and I love them so. 

MARY ANNE— The yard's jnst full of them Aunty, 
wait till you see, and a fine bed of tulips — and the nas- 
turtiums are coming along too; they'll be blooming in an- 
other week — (They exit R. closing the door. After a brief 
pause Elaine Jewett enters at eloor L. followed by Trella 
Webb. They are both ultra fashionable girls, about 18 and 
19. TJte stand in the doorway.) 

ELAINE — Doesn't seeni to be anyone here. 

TRELLA— Isn't there a bell or anything? 

ELAINE — I don't see any. I wonder who that was 
drove away as we came up. 

TRELLA — Looked like Diek Stanhope. He's coming 
down you know. 

ELAINE— But what was he doing here? 

TRELLA — I don't know. It says tea room on the 
sign post there. 

ELAINE— I wonder if this IS the girl ? 

TRELLA— This is where Billy said she lived. He's 
coming up as soon as they fix that tire for him. 

ELAINE — "A little country Rose," he said she was 
— um, and to think he came near marrying her. 

TRELLA — I don't think you need worry: Billy Bar- 
clay's no fool; he'll marry his social equal, you can be sure 
of that. Why — (the door R. opens a)id Manj Anne enters.) 

:\IARY ANNE— Why, Miss Jewett, I didn't know that 
you were here. 

ELAINE— Goodness it's the girl I met here two sum- 
mers ago. My dear, the sign said a "Tea Room" we 
looked for a bell to call someone — oh — ^this is Miss Webb. 

:\rARY ANNE— rro Trella)— How do you dof 

TRELLA— I'd be better if I had some tea. 

:\IARY ANNE— ( Sweetly )—rn call Betsy. 

ELAINE — And don't forget to come back, I'd like 
to speak with vou for a moment. 

MARY ANNE^Certainly.— flfor.v A)nK <.rits R.) 

TRELLA— She certainly "is pretty. 

ELAINE — Let me talk to her alone will you? 

TRELLA — ^What are you going to say ? 

P^jAINE — I want to find out for sure about Billy. 

TRELLA— Why you don't think he'd prefer this 
little country thing to you, do you? 



THE GOLDEN AGE 17 



ELAINE — Then what's he coming up here for? 

TRELLA— What does any boy do anything for? He 
used 'to live in this town, they went to s&hool together. 
Naturally he must say how do you do to some of his old 
friends. 

ELAINE — Yes, but she was more than a friend, she 
was. — (Mary Anne enters R.) 

MARY ANNE — Tea will be here in a moment. 

ELAINE — Tliank you. Miss — Miss — I beg your par- 
don, I have forgotten .vour name. 

MARY ANNE — Mary Anne Simmonds. 

TRELLA — (Laughing) — Don't tliey have ithe oddest 
names in the countrv ! 

MARY ANNE^r^l Uft^<' ojfended )—0h\ Is it odd? 

ELAINE — Trella, stop. Don't pay any attention to 
her Miss Simmonds, she'd laught at anything. Come over 
and sit with me on the sofa I want to ask you something. 

TRELLA— fLoo/>-.s' out the door L.j— That hammock 
looks cute and cosy ! Please serve my tea out there when 
it comes. — (She exits L. Mary Anne goes and sits L. with 
Elaine. Elaine is beautifully gowned and Mary Anne 
forms a poor .contrast to her.) 

MARY ANNE — What was it you wanted to ask me, 
]^Iiss Jewett ? 

ELAINE — How did you come to remember my name 
so well? 

MARY ANNE — It's onl,y 'been two summers since you 
were here, and then I've heard your name often since — 

ELAINE— Since when? 

MARY ANNE — Since I heard you were coming here 
to spend the summer in the Barclay cottage. 

'ELAINE^ Innocently) — Oh, you know Billy Bar- 
clay then? 

MARY ANNE— Quite well. We used to go to school 
together. I've known him all my life. 

ELAINE — Then I imagine you're just the one to tell 
me what I want to know. 

MARY ANNE— Why, what ? 

ELAINE — It's something I can't very well ask Billy 
about myself — ^Was there anyone around here he used to l3e 
— well in love with? A chum of his hinted as much. 

:\IARY ANNE— rA little coldly)— Why do you wish 
to know that, Miss Jewett? 



18 THE GOLDEN AGE 

ELAINE — Wei], naturally before a girl makes up her 
mind to accept a young man, she wants to find out all she 
can about his former atfairs. 

MARY ANNE— (hi a low voice)— Oh\ I under- 
stand. 

ELAINE— Tlien there WAS a girl he was fond of? 

MARY ANNE — There was a girl who thought he was 
fond of her, but she kno'ws better now. 

ELAINE— Oh ! 

MARY ANNE— (Reflectively)— Bui she hasn't any 
hold on him; none in the least. There'll never be any 
scenes, no reproaches; I suppose (that's what you wanted 
to feel sure of, isn 't it ? 

ELAINE — Of course. This other girl — who was she ? 

MARY ANNE— I hardly think I ought to tell her 
name. 

ELAINE — But at least you can tell me what she 
looks like. 

MARY ANNE— You'd call her a little country bump- 
kin I suppose. She wore gingham dresses and her hair 
in pigtails, when he first knew her. When she believed 
every word he said to her as if it were the gospel truth. — 
(Out .side on the porch can he heard a soft gurgle as if 
Trella was suppressing laughter. Mary Anne hears it and 
rises to C. past the table.) 

ELAINE — (Tries to mahe it appear she has not heard 
this) — iPoor little thing. Pigtails and gingham, eh? Well, 
things have changed for Billy since then. His people have 
become so very rich, she can't expect him to iiq^^jie- h< 
much, now that his father has a 'home in Newport, as \^ 
they were just the Barclays of Farmdale. y \^ , 

MARY ANNE— No, I suppose not. 

ELAINE — What became of this little countrj^ bump- 
kin. Did she fall in love with some farmhand in overalls 
and a blue flannel shirt? 

MARY ANNE— That's what she should have done, 
perhaps, but she didn't. She just kept on loving him and 
believing in him and hoping that someday — (She Ireals 
off to hide Iter emotion) — But she knows now that it's ov- 
er. She doesn't laugh quite as much as she did in the pig- 
tail days but outside of that you'd scarcely notice any 
change in her at all. 



THE GOLDEN AGE V.) 



ELAINE — Of course she won't like the idea of losii.ig 
him. A fellow with liis iivoney isn't picked up every day. 

MARY ANNE — Slie never thought o'f his money, not 
once. Besides when they were engaged, he didn't have a 
penny, he — 

ELAINE — Oh, you're getting quite excited over it. 

MARY A^'S'E—(R('aJizing that she is and fh(stered) 
Oh, that's natural. You see, slie was quite a good friend of 
mine. 

ELAINE— Indeed. 

MARY ANNE — (Luoking for a chance lo escape) — 
I '11 hurry Beitsy with the tea. 

ELAINE — Make it three, Billy Barclay is going to 
join us here in a few minutes. 

MARY ANNE— fPaju"c-5/ric/.e»;— Mr. Barclay— he- 
he's coming here"? 

ELAINE — Yes, you have no ohjections, I hope. 

MARY ANNE— Yes— 110— that is— of course not. I'll 
hurr^' Betsy. — (Mary Anne exits R. Trella enters from L. 
Site has overheard it all.) 

TRELLA— She's the one all right. 

ELAINE — T just wanted to he sure. He's talked of 
her all winter, I 've heen crazy to see what she looked like. 
Humph! A "Rose" he called her. 

TRELLA— Yes, she is, a "Tea Roi^.e:'— (Trella laughs 
loudly. Betsy enters with tea tray, service for three and 
biscuits. Trella looks at her.) — Goodness! What's this? 

BETSY— Tea. 

ELAINE— ^Poiwfs C.j^Serve it there. 

BETSY — Ain't going to have it in here are vou? 

ELAINE— Why not ? 

BETSY— Cause the tea tahle is all on the porch. We 
only hring 'em in when it rains. 

ELAINE — But we prefer it here. — (They pause looJx- 
in gat each other.) 

BETSY — G^oing to eat it standin' up or sittin' down. 

TRELLA— rLrt/fr///.s^j— Isn't she funny. 

Eh Am'E~^( Points to the center table. )-^F\\t it there. 

BETSY — Yes, 'um. — (Betsy puts the tray on the or- 
gan stool and moves things from the center table, then takes 
a small cloth from the tray and lays the table center ivith 
the simple service. The two girls stroll to the door L. look- 



20 THE GOLDEN AGE 

ing ojf. There is a pause. Then Betsy speaks.) — This tea 
is made just the wav HE likes it. 

ELAINE— He ? Who ? 

BETSY— The liired man. 

TnEhhA-^( Laughing)— r\\ die. I know I shall.— 
(An auto horn is heard off L.) 

ELAINE— fro Trella)—! think he's coming. 

BETSY — No'm he ain't. He's down in the pasture. 

ELAINE— rTo 5e%;— Who? 

BETSY— The hired man. 

ELAINE — <( Haughtily) — I wasn't referring to any 
hired man. I haven't the honor of one's acquaintance. 

BETSY— Would you like to meet him? 

ELAINE — No. Good Heavens! — (Trella nearly col- 
lapses.) 

BETSY — No. I suppose not. He wouldn't either. 
He 's as bashful as you are — Mary Anne told me to ask if 
there was anything else you wanted. 

ELAINE — No, thank you. — (Betsy pauses, not going. 
Elaine thinks she will get rid of her.) — You'd better go 
back to the kitchen I think I smell something burning. 

BETSY— Mebbe it's that cake I'm bakin' for dinner. 
(She goes slowly to door R.) — Ain't that too bad after all 
my work. 

TRELLA — Isn't she killing. — (Goes to the table and 
looks at the food) — These biscuits look good. — (Elaine joins 
her. Pours tea. Henderson enter L. Henderson first.) 

HENDERSON— f(7a/?7:».g off L.)^Oome on, Billy, 
here they are. 

TUkhhA— (Playfully)— YOV are just in time, but 
not expected. — (Barclay enters L.) 

HENDERSON— r'^acA: of the center table)— My nose 
not counted ? 

ELAINE — Only three cups. 

BILLY — I don't want any. 

HENDERSON— I'm for it. 

BILLY— f To the girls)— ^ee Mary Anne yet? 

ELAINE — She was here a while ago. 

BILLY — Did you tell her I was coming? 

ELAINE — Yes, and she ran away. 

BILLY— Ran away? What for? Hmm ! It WILL 
seem a little strange to meet her again. — (The others are 
partaking of the tea by this time.) 

ELAINE — Oh, you expect to meet her? 



THE (iOLDEN AGE 21 

BILLY^Naturally, of course. Why? Doesn't she 
wamt to see me? 

ELAINE— ('»S7(/-(^.f7s her shoulders)— ^he didn't say. 

BlLhY— (Walking about at hack) — The old house 
looks just the same. There's the old fireplace and the or- 
gan. 

ELAINE — (SarrasfiealJij) — Where she used to sing 
' ' Sweet Genevieve. ' ' 

TRF^hhA— (Laughing)— l<lo, I'll bet it was "Mar- 
guerite." Marguerite, The Star of Hope— 

BILLY — ^Well, if you want to know just what it was, 
it was "In the Gloaming," and Mary Anne could sing it 
too. 

ELAINE— Can she plav the Eukalala? 

BILLY— No. 

HENDERSON— Is she pretty? 

BILLY — She used to be — 'eyes like violets. 

ELAINE — (Pettishly) — If you want to see the violets 
eyes again, you'll probably find them out in the kitchen. — 
(Billy Jiesitafes, the situation hecomes awkward.) 

BILLY — Well, we used to have some good times to- 
gether. — (He knocks on the floor R. Betsy opens it-) 

BETSY— Yes, sir. 

BILLY— Is Mary Anne at home? 

BETSY — Yes, she's iputtin' on her new clothes, she's 
going to the store. 

BILLY — Tell her to come down as soon as she can. 

BETSY— Yes, ^iY.—(8he exits.) 

ELAINE— f([7ppt6-/(/.?/;— All in your honor. 

BILLY— What ? 

ELAINE — The change of costumes. 

BILLY— Absurd. 

TRELLA — Where do these country people get their 
ideas of style? 

BILLY — I wish she'd hurry up. 

ELAINE— What are you going to do ? 

BILLY — ^See if she won't come to the party tonight. 

ELAINE— With US ? 

BILLY — Of course. 

ELAINE— You're crazy. 

BILLY— Why so? 

ELAINE — Why she's waiting on the table here. 

BILLY — (Astonished) — Waiting on the table? 



22 THE GOLDEN AGE 

ELAINE — What do you think we are? I'm sure I 
can't meet a girl like ithat on terms of social equality. 

BILLY— (Looking about)— Why, what IS this? 

TRELLA — They're running a Tea Shop — 

BILLY— I don't see why— 

ELAINE — Don't be silly. It's out of the question. 

TRELLA— She's a "Jay," my boy. Wait till you 
see her. 

BILLY— Why she used to be— 

¥.LAmE—(Pleading)—Aw, now Billy, you don't 
want to ask her — 

BILLY— But— 

ELAINE — Oh, all right. I'm going then, and you can 
do as you please. — (She rises and goes L. Henderson lays 
a hill on the table in payment of the check, moves L. with 
Trella and Elaine.) 

BILLY— Aw— wait, Elaine! If you think I'd better 
not, wliy — 

ELAINE — Of course not. Why it's only for her own 
good. The poor thing wears the most atrocious dresses. 
She'd be mortified to death. I'm sure I would. 

BILLY— Well, I hadn't— fT/(e door R. opens and 
Mary Anne appears in her new dress which is a trifle cou>i- 
Iry thongh not exaggerated, with the terrible Slissy Millin- 
( ry creation on her head. Trella bur.'its out laughing, but 
intnu diatehi smothers it.) 

.MARY AIS^NE— (Drawing l)ack)— Oh, I thought the 
others had — 

BILLY — (Going to her awlnvardly, afraid of the oth- 
(rs) — Hello, Marv Anne. 

MARY ANNE— f8/(!y//yj— I was afraid you had for- 
gotten me — Mr. Barclay. 

BILLY— f^/amm<?rs;— Well, hardly— 

TRELLA— (Aside to Elaine)— Isn't that dress the 
funniest — 

ELAINE— Sh— 

BILLY — (To Mary Anne; rmbarrassed )—Ev— how is 
vour mother? 

MARY ANNE— She's quite well. 

ELAmE^(Aside to Trella)— And the hat, did you 
ever see such a — 

BILLY— (Confused, looking a.bout)—'EYerything 
looks just the same as it always did. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 2;} 



MARY ANNE— Yes. 

BILLY^Charlie Westgate and the girls slill live 
across the street? 

MARY ANNE — Yes. Only Charlie's accepted a po- 
sition with his Uncle in Bridgeport ; and Annie, that was 
the oldest girl, you i-emember, she's gone away to board- 
isg school. Edna's still here with the folks. 

BILLY— How's Peggy, your old horse? Still ride as 
much as you used to? 

MARY ANNE — No, not as much. Peggy's getting 
too old. Mother still drives her to the buckboard, to town 
and back. — (Trella allows a/^ audible giggle to escape her 
which she tries to smother; Mary Anne looks across at her 
in emharrassment.) 

TRELLA— I doii't think we ought to listen to all this 
gossip. 

ELAINE— (Aside to her)— Sh—BiWy will be furious 
if he sees you laughing at her. 

TRELLA — Well, you've been doing it yourself. 

BILLY — -(To Mary) — Seems awfully good to see you 
again Marv Anne. 

MARY ANNE— Yes, doesn't it. 

BILLY — ^What's become of your chum, Fanny Mer- 
lon? 

MARY ANNE — Fanny went to New York a year ago. 
Her father died and she and her mother have gone into the 
Salvation Army for — (Trella explodes at this and Elaine 
fries to cover it) 

ELAINE— We'll wait for you in the car Billy. 

BILLY — I'm coming right along. Well, goodbye 
Mary Anne, I'll see you again before I go back and — (Dick 
Stanhope enters the door L. He carries a small silk hand- 
bag.) 

DICK— Hello, people. 

TRELLA — Oh, hello Dick, I thought I saw you a while 
ago. — (Dick goes across to Mary Anne.) 

DICK— r To 3Iary)~Where's Auntie "Kirk," she 
left all her wealth in the car. 

MARY ANNE— She's in back with mother; here I'll 
show you. — (She opens the door R. and Mary and Dick 
exit. The others staring after them in amazement.) 

ELAINE — (Questioning) — Auntie Kirk ? ? ? 

HENDERSON— Has he an Aunt by that name? 

BILLY— That's funny. 



24 THE GOLDEN AGE 

TRELLA — I never heard of her. 

ELAINE — 'Come on, I've had enough of this phice 
anyhow. 

TRELLA — Did anvbody pay the cheek? 

HENDERSON— Yes, l' did. 

TRELLA— Good for you.—(Theij stroll off L.) 

BILLY— Left her wealth in the ear? What did he 
mean by that? 

ELAINE — I'm sure I don't know, and care less, ('ome 
on, l^illy. — (They exit. They have disappeared hy this 
time. After a pause 31rs. Simm())ids appears R. preceded 
bij Betsij.) 

BETSY— frr> Mrs. 8inunonds)—Yes, they're gone. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I ain't objecting to trade, except 
when it's trade yon ain't looking for, and don't want, then 
it's npsetitin'. 

BETSY— Yes, nm. 

:\IRS. SIMMONDS— What did that Jewett girl want 
to come np here for after what Miss Slissy just told ns 
about her. 

BETSY— What did Miss Slissy tell you? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— r To/,- (^ money on ta1)le)— Betsy, I 
ain't talkin' to vou. 

l^ETSY— Yes, urn. 

]\IRS. SIMMONDS— I was talkin' to myself. Take 
away these tea things. — (Betsy gathers them up. Betsy 
laL-es the tray up on the organ stool. Mrs. Kirtdand and 
Mary Anne enter R. Mrs. KirJiland Jias her arm ahout her. 
Mary Anne is cryinej.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Now, Mary Anne, you tell me 
what's troubling you. Don't say there's nothing, for I 
felt it the moment I came into this house. Amanda, I found 
her crving in the pantry. 

MARY A}^^E—(KSobhing. She sits R. uf table C.)— 
1 was feelin' a little downcast over — something. But 1 
didn't mean to show it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— No. you're not— much. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I think it was that Jewett girl 
comin' licre. that upset her. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Elaine Jewett? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Yes, and Billy Barclay too— 

MARY ANNE— Mumsey. dear, please let's not talk 
about him any more. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well, J\liss Slissy— 



THE OLDEN AGE 25 



MARY ANNE— Miss Slissy is the worst gossip in the 
neighborhood, she'll repeat what you said, everywhere. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— High, ho! High, ho! What's 
all this? Billy Barclay"? and Elaine Jewett? What's in 
the air? — (No one answers, Mrs. Kirkland continues) — 
Well, what is it Amanda, can't you speak? Mary Anne, 
What is all this about Billy Barclay ? Are you crying on 
account of him. 

MARY A^NE—(Nods, still sobbing )—T]m— 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What! 

MARY ANNE — I was engaged to Billy Barclay once. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Why you never told me. When? 

MARY ANNE — Summer before last. We made a 
sort of boy and girl compact to keep it secret, I don't know 
why. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— ITm — so he's here on your ac- 
count. 

MARY ANNE— No, Auntie, he's forgotten all about 
me and I didn't want everyone to find it out. 

MRS. >SIMMONDS— i recon mebbe he's got it in his 
liead that Mary Anne's beneath him. 

MARY ANNE — No, mother, I'm sure it isn't that. — 
(To Mrs. Kirkland) — Something happened, and he stopped 
writing little by little, then altogether. I don't know why. 
And when he was here just now — (Betsy has remained un- 
noticed up hy the organ.) 

MRS. KmKhA^D— (Indignant)— Yon mean to tell 
me, Amanda, that any man has had the etfrontry to jilt 
my niece? 

MARY ANNE— You forget. Auntie, he is William 
Barclay of New York and Newport, now. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And I am Mrs. Drexel Kirkland 
of New York and Lennox, and you are my sister's child. 

MARY ANNE — Perhaps it was natural that he should 
grow tired of me. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — I resent anyone growing tired 
of my relations. — (To Mrs. Simmonds)— But he was here 
just now — Why did lie come; if — 

BETSY-^He came to ask' Mary Anne to go to the 
])arty tonight, but the others wouldn't let him. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Wouldn't let him^i— (To Betsy) 
How do you know? 

BETSY — I was list'ning at tJie keyhole and I heard 
'em talkin' about it. 



26 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What did they say? 

BETSY— That Jewett girl said she couldn't meet 
Mary Anne as a social equal, 'cause she was waitin' on 
the taible here — and that was a lie, 'cause I do it myself. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (Boiling)— Oh, she said that, did 
she? 

BETSY— And they made fun of Mary Anne's clothes. 

MARY ANNE— There you see, that's the whole 
trouble. When I look at Elaine Jewett and myself, I 
realize how hopelessly countrified I am. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You're worth four of her. 

MARY ANNE— She's beautiful. Look at me with my 
brown arms and face. My country made dresses — tliis hat. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (Mrs KirMand is fussing)— Miss 
Slissy should get twenty years for making that hat. 

MARY ANNE — Elain's hats and gowns come from 
Paris. — She is 'beautiful, cultivated. No, I've no right to 
expect him to think of me now, and I'm a fool to care. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Cultivated? I'll bet she don't 
know a thing more than you do. Professor Saunders of 
the High School, says that when Mary Anne gets started 
there ain't a finer conversationalist in Farmdale. 

MARY ANNE — Auntie, I'm sorry. You must think 
I'm silly. I know, but it did upset me a little especially 
after what happened two summers ago. But what hurt 
me the most was, I KNEW they were laughing at me. — 
(.She hursts into tears again and buries her face in kef 
arms on the table C.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— M^ a tip from Mrs. Kirkland)— 
Betsy, I think I hear the hired man a callin' you. 

BETSY — Yes'um. He 'wants his boots I recon. — (She 
exits R. with the tea tray.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— So, Billy Barclay came up to 
ask you to go to the party and then lost his nerve because 
'they twitted liim, eh ? 

MARY ANNE — I couldn't go anyhow, Auntie, I 
woudn't go. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I know the Jewetts like a book. 
She's just like her mother. 

MARY ANNE — "Mary Anne," I suppose he even 
thinks the name is ridiculous and out of date, while 
"Elaine" is beautiful and poetic. 

MR^.KIRKLAND— (Contemptuously)— Fiddlesticks. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 27 



MARY ANNE — I don't blame him now that I have 
seen her again. I'm homely, dowdy in comparison. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— My dear, you imagine you care 
for Billy Barclay, just because you've never seen anyone 
else. 

MARY ANNE— No. It was just because— 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well? 

MARY ANNE — Just because — it was Billy. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Um— I'm afraid It's a bad case. 
Well, there's no reason you can't have him if you -want 
him. 

MARY ANNE— How can If He doesn't want ME. 
He's HERS. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— How do you know he is? 

MARY ANNE— She said so. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— They're not engaged. 

MARY ANNE— But— 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Nonsense, I know the Jewetts. 
If they were, Elaine's mo'ther would be megaphoning it to 
the whole outside world. What did he say, when he wrote 
In-eaking it off with you? 

MARY ANNE— He didn't write, that's just it. If he 
had, I would have known, and not been kept waiting like 
a silly lit'tle fool. I don't think he meant to be cruel. It 
was just as though I were a little mouse he wanted to 
drown, but didn't have the courage. — (Betsy enters R.) 

BETSY — That foreign French girl wants to know — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You tell that foreign French 
girl to come here at once. 

BETSY— Yes, 'um. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And is that nice gentleman who 
gave you the dollar still playing with the dog in the l)ack 
yard? Tell him to come. 

BETSY— Yes, um. It was two dollars. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well, tell him to come twice. 

BETSY— Yes, \im.—(Betsij exits off R.) 

MRS. SIMMO'NDS— Land sakes, don't tell her to say 
that, she'll do it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'll see about this jilting busi- 
ness. 

MARY ANNE— Auntv, what do you intend to do? 

.AIRS. KIRKLAND— I'm going to New York. 



28 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MARY ANNE — You're surely uot going to let my 
foolish trouble drive you away; I'll :brace up and be 
cheerful, I promise. Mother, make her stay. 

MRS. SIMMONDB— (Alarmed)— ri\ kill the best 
chicken on the farm for your dinner and we'll have — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'm going to New York and 
Mary Anne's going with me. 

MARY AN'NE— (Astounded)— Me ! ! 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You.— r/^e/ice enters R. She is 
followed by Dick, who goes over I. and Betsy.) — Felice! 
Don't unpack, we are going away the first thing in the 
morning. 

FELICE— Qui, Madame. 

MARY ANNE— But I don't understand. 

DICK— r^o Mrs. KirMand)— Want me. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes.— fr/iew musingly)— What 
a hardened old sinner I've been; I've loved Mary Anne 
so, as she was, a little country bloissom, I hated to see any- 
thing different. Forgetting all the while, that a girl sees 
things with other eyes. I shall DO something now. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— But Mariah, you said you were 
all run down and needed a rest. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Did I? Well I was mistaken, 
what I need is excitement. 

MARY ANNE- What do you mean. Auntie? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— The excitement of backing you 
against Elaine Jewett and seeing which will come out 

.Q [t P Q (^ 

MARY ANNE— Why, Auntie ! 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, and we'll have one good 
fling at them before we go. Dick, j^ou're going to the 
party at the hotel tonight. 

DICK— I know I am. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, but what you don't know 
is, you're going to take Mary Anne and me. 

BICK— (Grins)— Fine. 

MARY ANNE— But Aunty, I have no clothes— this— 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'll fix that.— f To Dick)— What 
time is it? 

DICK — (Looks at his watch) — ^Four o'clock. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— How long would it take a careful 
driver to l)ring a motor car full of gowns down here? 

MARY ANNR— (Gasps)— Oh ! 

DICK — (Calmly) — About three hours. 



eful 

i 



THE GOLDEN AGE 29 



MRS. KIRKLAND— Get Madame Blanche on the long 
distance for me, like a good boy. The number is Plaza 
3800. 

DICK— Sure.— rZTe goes up stage and takes the phone 
ivhich stands on the organ.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'll give Elaine Jewett something 
to talk nho\\t.—( Contemptuously )— Waiting on the table 
indeed ! 

MARY ANNE— Auntie ! I can't realize that you— 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Wait till they see you at that 
party tonight on the arm of Dickie Stanhope. Dickie, you 
make love to Mary Anne tonight all you know how. 

BICK— (At phone grinning) — Fine. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Violent love. 

MARY A^^E— (Embarrassed)— Oh. Auntie ! 

MRS. KIRKLAND— We'll make Billy Barclay so jeal- 
ous he'll want to fight; and Elaine Jewett so envious, she'll 
want to scream. 

DICK — (In phone) — Toll operator, I want to get 
3800 Plaza, New York 'City. — (The following scene hetiveen 
Mrs. Kirkland and. Felice is spoken in rapid French, both 
gesticulating wildly with their hands. Mrs. Kirkland 
places a chair C. and. seats Mary Anne between them.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Felice ! Regardez— 

F¥AjICE— (Coming down) — ^Oui, Madame. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Je voudrais que vous vous char- 
giez coinpletement de la toilette de cette jeune dame. Nous 
choisirons les robes les plus belles et a la mode, sans regard 
au prix. 

FELICE — Ah ! Mademoiselle, en crepe de chine de 
"sole blanche, seulement avec un collier de perles. Sa 
coiffure a la Rosaire, Ah ! Madame, elle serait charmante. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Qui, oui, et les escarpins, il ne 
faut pas oublier les esearpins. Et le manteau, le manteau. 
Seulement un pen de bleu Tourquoise dans quelque part. 
Ne pensez-vous pas? 

FELICE— Ah! Oui, Madame, Oui. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Je vais demander une douzaine 
de combinations et nous choisirons les plus appropriees, 
blauc et rose qui sont toujours joilies ou bien blanc et bleu 
avec un pen de rose. 

FELICE— Ah! Oui, oui. 



30 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. SIMMONDS— fW/!o has lecn listening in open- 
mouthed amazement now breaks in) — Land sakes, Mariah, 
what ARE you jab'berin' about in that foreign tongue? 

DICK— (In the phone)— Is this 3800 Plaza? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— And a body not understandin' a 
word you're sayin'. I declare I never heard such goin's 
on in all my life. — (Mary Anne has been listening in amaze- 
ment looking from one to the other. Mrs. Kirkland touches 
Mary Anne's hair, paying no attention to her sister, con- 
tinues the conversation with Felice.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— ,Sa coiffure a la Rosaire ? Je ne 
suis pas sure si cela me plairait. Sa figure est un peu 
legere, peut etre quelque chose de plus simple irait mieux. 
(Felice expostulates in a loud burst, Dickie is speaking at 
the phone, and amid this babble of French and English the 
curtain descends. Mrs. Kirkland going to phone-) 

CURTAIN. 



NOTE — The following is the English translation of 
the foregoing scene between Mrs. Kirkland and Felice. 

TRANSLATION OP THE END OF ACT I. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Felice! 

FELICE— Yes; Madame. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I want you to take full charge 
of this young lady's toilet, we will select the most beautiful 
and becoming frocks regardless of expense. 

FELICE— f/n ecstasy at the thought)— Ah, Madam- 
moiselle in white crepe de chine, with just a necklace of 
pearls ; her hair, a la Rosaire ; Ah, Madame she would be 
exquisite. 

MRS. KIUKL AND— (Rapidly with a shrug)— Yes 
yes, and the slippers,; we must not forget the slippers ; and 
the cloak, the cloak. Just a touch <ot tourquoise blue some- 
where, don't you think? 

FELICE — I shall order a dozen combinations and we 
shall select whatever will 'be most becoming, etc., etc.^ 
(Mary Anne stands listening entranced. Mrs. Simnionds 
in open-mouthed amazement. Finally she can't stand it 
any longer and breaks in.) 



THE GOLDEN AGE 81 

MBS. SIMMONDS— Land sakes, Mariah, what ARE 
you jabbering about in that foreign tongue? 

DICK— r^^ the phone)— Is this 3800 Plaza? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— And a body not understandin' a 
WORD, you're sayin'. — (Mary Anne goes to Mrs. Kirldand 
and kneels listening )—l DECLARE. I never heard such 
goin's on in ALL my life. — (Mrs. Kirkland unmindful of 
her sister's ivords continues her conversation ivith Felice. 
She touches Mary Anne's hair and suggests a suitable coif- 
fure, etc., etc. and amid this bubble the curtain descends.) 

END OF ACT L 



32 THE GOLDEN AGE 

ACT II. 

SCENE — Parlor of rather pretentious Summer Hotel 
at Earmdale. Up Center is a large arch to hall which leads 
off to the office B. and to the diningroom L. On the L. is 
an arch with folding doors which leads in to the diningroom, 
which has been cleared for the dance. The lighting is mod- 
ern electric. 

On either side of the arch C. are ladies writing tables 
with lamps, etc. A fireplace R. down stage. A divan near 
if. A table stands at L.C. with chair. 

There is music and dancing in the room L. 

TIME — It is about 9 o'clock of the same evening as 
Act I. 

DISCOVERED— TrelJa and Henderson. Trclla is just 
seating herself on the divan L. and Henderson is with htr. 
They have just finished a dance. ' 

The music has stopped. 

Patty Ellison and Teddy Farnum enter from arch L. 
arm in arm. 

TRELLA — Goduess gracious, I believe I'm tired. 

HENDERSON — I was just beginning to strike my 
pace. You '11 save the supper dance for me f 

TRELLA— You bet I will. Don't I always?— f^7(e 
smiles at him. Henderson strolls up to C. where he is 
joined by Teddy. Patty goes to Trella.) 

TRELLA— That's a pretty gown, Patty. 

PATTY— You don't think it too extreme? 

TRELLA — Oh, no. With your figure you can wear 
anything. Where's Elaine? 

PATTY— Sitting this one out with Billy Barclay, on 
the porch. She's danced with no one else so far. 

TRELLA— It's what they call "confiscation." 

PATTY— "Stingy" I would say. He's the best danc- 
er here. 

TRELLA— What's the matter with Teddy?. 

PATTY — Well he IS light on his feet for one so ro- 
bust; but he doesn't impart that delightlul sensation of 
manly strength that Billy Barclay does, when he puts his 
arm about you. 

TRELLA— Oh, it's a heavenly ieeling— (Sits up)— 
But you'd better be careful Elaine doesn't hear you, she'll 
have her fingers in your hair. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 33 

PATTY— Is she jealous? 

TRELLA— Jealous ? ' ' Oh, Sister Lucy. ' ' 

PATTY— Well I don't want him. 

TRELLA — Let's sneak off and have a cigarette with 
the boys. 

PATTY— Can't, I promised Teddy I swear off. 

TRELLA— Swear off? Why you just started. 

PATTY^I know but Teddy has scruples. 

TRELLA^Strikes me Teddy is "Little but. Oh, My!" 

PATTY — Now Trella if youre going to l)e disagree- 
alile. I'm — 

TRELLA — Aw — ^silly, I was only kidding. — (Miss 
Slissy, in much finery appears at the arch center from the 
office. Site speaks to Teddy and Henderson who are smok- 
ing in the hall.) 

MISS SLISSY— Good evening. 

'fUY.lAj A— (Looking at MO^s Slissy)— Oh ! Goodness ! 
Look who's here. — -(Patty rises and crosses to L. Teddy 
comes down. Miss Slissy comes down C. Henderson to the 
hack of the divan.) 

MISS SLISSY— I was looking for Miss Jewett. 

TRELLA — She's in there somewhere. — (She points 
L.) 

MISS SLI^^Y— (Sizing up the men)— You're hav- 
ing a lovely party, aint you? 

TRELLA— Almost.— rM^sic.; 

MISS SLISSY — I do love to see the young folk enjoy 
tlieinselves, you are enjoying it, I suppose? 

TRELLA — (Looking at Slissy 's hat) — I wasn't, but I 
am now. 

MISS SLISSY— I love parties. 

TRELLA— Do you indeed? 

MISS 8LLSSY — Oh, yes. Everyone says I'm always 
the life of every party I go to. 

TRELLA— I can understand it— (To Patty )^F.Sitty, 
isn't that a lovely hat she's wearing? — (Patty moves away 
with a sign to Trella not to tease her.) 

MISS SLISSY— rP/fas«^;— Do you like it? 

TRELLA — I never saw anything like it. 

MISS 8LISSY— It's my own design. I'm Miss Slis- 
sy, the dressmaker and milliner of Farmdale. 

TRELLA — Oh, yes, isn't that nice. 

PATTY~( Referring to the hat and sorry for Slissy) 
1 think it's quite pretty and simple. 



34 THE GOLDEN AGE 

TE:ElhhA—( Innocently )~IVs SIMPLE all right. 

MISS SLISSY— Didn't cost over $^.00.— (Takes it 
off) — Look at them ribbons — and that bow, isjn't that 
saucy ? 

TRELLA — It's impertinent. 

MISiS SLISSY— I do work for the very best people 
in town. 

TRELLA — Are you doing anything for Miss Jewett? 

MISS SLISSY— Well, I hope to start tomorrow. 

TRELLA — (Smiling) — Heavens, I don't see how that 
girl expects the rest of us to keep up with her. The way 
she spends her money — 

HENDERSON— It's frightful. 

MISS iSLISSY— fTo Trella)—Mj store's on the main 
street, right next to the Post Office. Come in and see me 
sometime. 

TRELLA— I wouldn't miss it. 

MISS SLISSY — I have two girls working for me, 
keeps 'em busy most of the time. 

TRELLA — I should think it would. — (Elaine and Bar- 
clay enter L.) — Here's Miss Jewett now. 

MISS SLISSY— Oh, how de do. Miss Jewett. I'm 
Miss Slissy. / 

ELAINE — (Annoyed) — I can't be bother 'd now, come\ 
and see me tomorrow. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, I thought I'd drop around to- 
night and see what time you wanted me to come tomorrow, 
I can leave the store anytime, one of my girls I made fore- 
lady and she waits on the customers when I'm out. 

ELAINE — 'Come right after breakfast. 

MISS SLISSY— About half past six? 

ELAINE — Good gracious. Half past eleven. 

MISS SLISSY — Land sakes, I'm ready for dinner at 
that time. — (The music starts) — Isn't that a lovely tune 
they're playing ? — {Elaine and Barclay stroll up stage. 
Slissy comes to Trella-) 

TRELLA— Do you dance. Miss Slissy? 

MISS SLISSY— Mercy, I should say I do. I wa^ up 
to Bridgeport three weeks one winter, and took the whole 
course. 

TRELLA — You ought to be good. 

TEDDY— fTo TreZ/a;- This is where you dance with 
the "Teddy Bear." 



THE C40LDEN AGE 85 



MISS SLISSY— "Teddy Bear," ain't that cute. He 
looks just like one. 

TEDDY— Tliank you. 

TRELLA — (Rising) — Teddy, I'll never forgive you. 
Such opportunities come but once in a lifetime. — (With ill 
concealed mirth Trella goes off L. with Teddy.) 

MISS ShlS^Y— (Turning up to Elaine)— Well, I 
suppose I'd better see you tomorrow, Miss Jewett. 

ELAINE— Yes, do. 

MISS SLISSY— ^W/?o is loathe to go)— Are there 
any extra young gentlemen at the party? 

ELAINE — No, we're pretty well matched as far as I 
can see. 

MISS SLISSY— How de do, Billy. 

BILLY — G-ood evening, Miss Slissy. 

MISS SLISSY — Ain't seen you down here in a long 
time. 

BILLY— No. 

MISiS SLISSY— Not since the Barn Dance at the 
Hillslby's, when you and — (Elaine has gone down R. to the 
divan. Billy leaves Miss Slissy and, goes to Elaine.) 

BILLY— ("To Miss Slissy')— Excuse me.— (To Elaine) 
Shall we try this one or are you going to sit them all out? 

ELAINE — Everyone seems to know you quite WELL 
in Farmdale. 

MISS SLISSY— r^^"'» C. j— Lord ! I've known Billy 
Barclay ever since he was knee high to a duck. I remem- 
.ber once when he was about 10 years old — 

BILLY — ^Oh, excuse me, Miss Slissy, but I'm engaged 
just now — (To Elaine) — ^Shall we try this one or are you 
going to sit them all out ? 

ELAINE — Let's rest here for a moment. — (To Miss 
Slissy.) — Good night. Miss Slissy. See you tomorrow. 

MISS SLISSY — (Looking into the room, L.) — I won- 
der if they'd mind if I sat and watched 'em for a spell. 

BILLY — ^Perhaps not. But be careful of those naugh- 
ty boys, some of them are heart breakers. 

MISS ^IjI^^Y— (Giggles)— 0\^, go on, you always 
was such a ^oker.— (She timidly exits into room L.) 

ELAINE— I'm not sure I'll be able to stand her. 

BILLY — There's one goes with every town this size. 

ELAINE — Oh, well, no doubt she can give me the 
gossip, and some of it might interest me. 

BILLY — For instance. 



36 THE CrOLDEN AGE 

ELAINE-r-You seemed to find it hard to tear yourself 
away from the tea shop this afternoon. — (Billy sits on divan 
with her.) 

'BILLY — Well, I've known Mary Anne ever since she 
was born. We were quite good friends. 

ELAINE— Yes, so I've heard. 

BILLY — I wonder why they had to open that tea 
shop ? I thought her father was quite well off when he 
died and — 

ELAINE — Gives them vsomething to do. I should think 
they'd need it. — (Shrugs.) — Ugh ! Must be terrible to live 
all your life in a town like this. 

BILLY — They have a nice farm. 

ELAINE — But no theatres, no dances, except coun- 
try ones. I should go mad. And the clothes tbey wear. 

BILLY — She used to wear more becoming clothes. 

ELAINE — Doesn't speak well for Miss Slissy, does it. 
Thank goodness it's only some plain work she's to do for 
me. — (The music stops.) 

BILLY — (Looking L.) — That's another one gone. — 
(Teddy Farmim crosses the stage at hack toward the 
office. Trella and Patty, with Henderson and Charlie 
Mason come on L.) 

TRELLA — (To Elaine) — You people are having a 
lovely party, aren't you. You danced the last one on the 
porch and 'this one in the parlor. 

ELAINE— I'm tired. 

TRELLA — Well, you needn't monopolize Billy if you 
are. 

HENDERSON— Yes. These girls get tired dancing 
with us beginners all the time. 

PATTY— Now Lloyd. I said you dance beautifully, 
you know I did. 

HENDERSON— I only stepped on your toe twice, 

didn't I. 

PATTY— No, it was three times. But the last one 
didn't hurt very much. 

TRELLA— Has any'body seen "Dickie" Stanhope? 
I promised him a dance. 

HENDERSON— Not I. 

BARCLAY— I wonder where he is? 

ELAINE— fLor;/rtH,g at her wrist watch.)— It's nine 
o'clock. He'd better hurry up. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 37 

PATTY — I had that second dance with him and sat 
it out like a tulip stuck against the wall. 

TRELLA — No, a carnation ! And a red one at that. 
Every time I looked at you, you were blushing with indig- 
nation to the roots of your hair. 

PATTY— (Peeved)— Urn— aren't you expressive!— 
(Teddy Farnum enters C. from R.) 

TEDDY— (E statically.)— Oh boy ! Oh Baby Boy ! 

BILLY— What's the matter with you? 

TEDDY— fAo^ seeing Patty.)— Talk about your stun- 
ning "Doll Babies" wait till you see the limpid queen 
Dickie Stanhope's brought to the party. 

MASON— Who is she? 

TEDDY— I don't know, but she's a bird. 

PATTY — Teddy Farnum, I'm surprised at you. 

TEDDY— fG^oes to her)— Why Patty, I— 

TRELLA— You say she's pretty? 

TEDDY-^Pretty ? She's wonderful. 

PATTY— Teddy ! 

TEDDY— Well, Pat, she is. 

ELAINE— Who can it be ? 

BILLY— Where are they ? 

TEDDY — He just led her in from his car. I got one 
flash from those violet eyes and — 

BILLY — Violet? — (Elaine gets this and so does Trel- 
la.) 

ELAINE — (Sarcastically) — Billy's favorite flower. — 
(To Teddy.) — ^How is she dressed? 

TEDDY— Like Cinderella at the ball. 

ELAINE— Oh, then it couldn't be — (Dick Stanhope 
C. from R. enters, with Mary Anne upon his arm. Dick 
is imtnaculate in evening dress and Mary Anne a vision of 
loveliness, in a white evening dress of most exquisite ma- 
terial and design. She wears a light evening wrap also very 
costly. She is followed by Felice. The whole thing has 
heen staged and arranged hy Mrs. Kirkland. Felice re- 
mains up stage.) 

DICK — (Grinning.) — Hello, people. Little late, but 
better that than never. You all know Miss Simmonds I'm 
sure — no, I'm mistaken. There are some who haven't had 



38 THE GOLDEN AGE 

the pleasure. — (Introduce^,-) — Miss Ellison, Mr. Mason, 
Miss Marion Simmonds of this city. 

^IIAjY— (Stunned.)— Kd^ry Anne ! 

DICK — Sounds the same only the spelling is different. 

ELAINE— Why— why— 

TRELLA — (Coming to her rescue.) — It's the young 
lady we met this afternoon. 

DICK — Yes, Miss Simmonds is Mrs. Kirkland's niece, 
I brought "Aunty Kirk" down in my ear this afternoon 
and — 

ELAINE— Mrs. Drexel Kirkland? 

DICK — Yes. She isn't really my aunt you know. I 
just call her that. But she's Marion's aunt and — 

TRELLA — (Effusively. Going over to Mary Anne.) 
Why how do you do. — (Shakes hands with her.) 

MARY ANNE— r^ujcef /i/.;— I'm quite well, thank 
you. — (She passes on to Patty L-) 

PATTY — (Sweetly.) — Strange we haven't met before. 
I know Mrs. Kirkland very well — (Patty and Mary Anne 
take to each other instinctively. Teddy and Mason move 
about trying to he noticed. Dick joins Billy and Elaine R. 
and Trella comes to them.) 

DICK— ('To Bilhj.)— Sorry to be so late but we were 
ehatti)ig up at Mrs. Simmond's and didn't notice the hour, 
liavirg a good time? 

mhhY— (Still dazed.)— Splendid. 

DICK — (Cooly.) — ^That's nice. Marion and I expect 
to have a good time. Though nothing to what we will have 
this winter. She'll spend the winter in New York with 
Aunty Kirk and — (Teddy has been in a considerable fidgit 
because he has not been introduced now breaks forth.) 

TEDDY— r^o Dick-)—0\\, I say, haven't you forgot- 
ten to introduce a certain party ? 

DICK — I beg your pardon, Teddy, So I have. — (To 
Mary Anne) — This is Mr. Teddy Farnum, our mascot. — 
(All the boijs laugh.) 

MARY ANNE— (Shaking hands with Teddy)— 
Pleased to meet you. 

TEDDY— Delighted, Miss Simmonds. 

MARY ANNE— Thank you. Just wbat is a mascot? 

TEDDY — I don't know exactly, but whatever it is, 
I'm one. Though they do say I'm a bad one. 

HENDERSON — A mascot, Miss Simmonds, is a thing 
carried around by a lot of idiotic foot-ball players, when 



THE GOLDEN AGE 39 



they want to put a "Jinks" on the game. And if ever 
there was a "Jinks," he's it. 

MARY ANNE— Jinks ? That's worse. 

MASON — Nothing could be worse than he is, when 
he's rooting for a team. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, I know what he is now. He's the 
one who leads the"crowd on your side. The chief "Yeller" 
isn't that it? 

TEDDY— (The music starts L.j— That's me. I'm the 
little fat Indian from Slewfoot Canyon when it comes to a 
wild whoop in a football match. 

DICK — (To Mary A7me)—We\\, now that you have 
tho'roly met "Chief Rain In The Face," shall we try a 
war dance of our own ? 

MARY ANNE— ('Tr7/j?(9' hard to keep in the character 
she is assuming.) — ^Certainly, Felice, my cloak. 

FELICE — (Coming down. )-^0m, Mademoiselle. 

MARY ANNE — (In a very careful French to Felice) 
Aimeriez-vous regarder les dauseurs? — Do you care to 
watch the dancers. 

FELICE — Ah, Mademoiselle, je I'aimerais bien. — Ah, 
Mademoiselle. I should love to. 

MARY ANNE — Alors, asseyez-vous dans la salle du 
bal. Pent ere j'aurais besoin du manteau, s'il ferait trop 
chaud. — Take a seat in the ball-room. I may want the 
cloak if it gets too warm. 

FELICE— Oui, merci. 

MARY ANNE— ("ro Dick)— Are you ready? 

m€K— (Offering his arm.)— Yon het— (To the other 
hoys.) — The supper dance is mine, boys, but I won't be 
stingy ; ,you may help yourselves to one or two of the 
others. — (Mary Anne and Dick start for room L. when 
they meet Miss Slissy who enters L. Mary Anne paused 
tvttJt Dt-clc ) 

MISS SLISSY— (Looking Uck)—Tha,t feller that 
plays the bass fiddle is lovely; he's new this summer. — 
(She sees Mary Anne.) 

MARY ANNE— Good evening, Miss Slissy.— ri¥a;-i/ 
Anne pauses for a moment while Miss Slissy stares at her 
in uncomprehending amazement, then they pass on into 
the hall-room.) 

MISS ShlSSY— (Looking after them)— Dear me, I 
never had such a funny feelin' in all my life. — (To others) 
Was that or was that NOT Mary Anne Simmonds? 



40 THE GOLDEN AGE 

TEDDY— It was. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, I've heard TELL of miracles, 
but 'this is the first time I ever seen one. — (She moves up 
stage a little unsteady) — I'll come to Mary Ann tomorrow. 
Miss Jewett — (She turns and looks L. a little dazed then 
exits C. and R.) 

TRELLA — I can't l)lame her much it's the way I 
feel. 

PATTY— I don't see what all the excitement's about, 
I think Miss Simmonds is lovely. 

TEDDY— Ah! You uphold me? 

PATTY— I certainly do. 

BILLY— She's wonderful. 

ELAINE — (Angry) — It was certainly well done.— (To 
Henderson) — This is ours I think Lloyd. 

HENDERSON— Right.— r7/f«f/n-^7;» and Elaine c.rif 
L.) 

TRELLA— (Going L. unth Mason)— Talk about a 
transformation? 

PATTY — Come on Billy, I've been dying all evening 
to dance with you. 

BILLY— (Dazed)— Excuse me Patty, will you? Take . 
me on the next one. 

PATTY^Crushed again. 

TEDDY— f To Patty)— Never mind little one, you 
have me to fall back on. 

PATTY — Oh, well, but one hates to dance with one's 
fiancee ALL the evening.— fT/^e exit L.) 

TEDDY — That's what fiancees are for. — (Billy sits 
on the divan R. Mrs. Kirkwood enters from the C. and R. 
She goes L. and watches the dancers for a moment then 
sees Billy L.) 

MRS. KIRK— (Pleasantly)— Well, Billy Barclay. 
How do you do. 

BILLY- — (Rising) — Why, good evening, Mrs. Kirk- 
land. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Aren't you dancing? ' 

BILLY— Not this one. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Oh!— r^SVie turns and watches 
the da)icers again. Billy thinks a moment then calls to 
her.) 

BILLY— Mrs. Kirkland. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (Coming down a little)— Yes. 



THE GOLDEN AGE £1 

BILLY — I never knew that Mary Anne Siinmonds was 
vour niece. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Oh, dear, yes. Her mother is 
my sister. I was 'born in this town — I'm not going to tell 
you how many years ago — But I met and married Drexel 
Kirkland and — 

BILLY — (Looking L.) — Slie — she looks awfully pretty 
tonight. 

''MRS. KmKLA^T)—(InHocrn(hj)—Yes, doesn't she? 

BILLY — I — never saw her dressed so bewiitehingly 
hefore. 

MRS. KmKhANB—( Carelessly )~No, she's such a 
quiet little thing it's seldom we can get her to dress. This 
gown isn't as chie as some she has but we thought it would 
do for for 'this aiTair seeing that-it IS half informal. 

BILLY — I was — quite well acquainted with your 
niece, a few vears ago. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Indeed ! She's a dear little girl. 
Tlie only niece I have in the world. — (Looking L.) — Isn't 
"Dickie" Stanhope an excellent dancer? 

BILLY— rYo^ looking)— Yes. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What a charming picture they 
make together. 

BILLY — It's terribly warm in here. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— It has been sultry today, for 
June. 

BILLY — (Looking L.) — Dick Stanhope acts as if he 
owned her. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Nice boy "Dickie." Will you 
take me in? I don't want to dance, just watch them. 

BILLY — Surely. — (Billy moves over L. and they, stand 
just outside the arch L. watching the dancers. Teddy and 
Patty enter from L. at the G. Just as the music stops. 
There is applause and the dance continues.) 

TEDDY— fro Patty )~Phew~tha)t 'was a swift one. 

PATTY — You'll have to go into training again, Ted- 
dy. 

TEDDY — That's coming to me soon anyhow from the 
looks of things across the water. 

PATTY— You 'think the United States will go in ? 

TEDDY— So 'they tell us. 

PATTY— Oh, Teddy, that means the National Guard— 

TEDDY— We'll settle it, if we ever get there. 

PATTY— Oh, Teddy ! 



42 THE GOLDEN AGE 

TEDDY — There don't worry I'm not going tonight. 
Not till I've had at least one dance with that pretty Miss 
Simmonds anyhow. 

PATTY— If it weren't that I like her so mneh, I'd 
be jealous, Teddy Parnum. 

TEDDY — (Comes near her) — Now, Patty, my angel, 
don't be cruel to me. You know there is only one star in 
the (firmament for me. 

PATTY — (Holding him off) — Now — don't -ask me for 
a kiss. It disturbs my complexion. 

TEDDY — I wasn't going to. — Last time you came off 
on my coat. 

PATTY — Then for once I made a visible impression. 
Well, what DID you want? You looked as if you were 
about to grab me. 

TEDDY — I was about to whisper a great cosmic 
truth into your shell-like ear. 

PATTY— What? 

TEDDY — (Mijsteriausly) — Did you notice Elaine 
Jewett, when she got her first glimpse of Miss Marion 
Simmonds tonight ? 

PATTY— No. What did she do? 

TEDDY — Looked as if'd been struck by lightning. 
And Barclay too; there's been something up, there. 

PATTY — 'Nonsense. You're always doing some ama- 
teur detective work. I wouldn't mind if it turned out for 
someone's benefit. 

TEDDY — It shall. Didn't you tell me a moment ago 
that you were thirsty. 

PATTY— I did." And am. 

TF.DDY— (Takes her by the /m/;fZ.j— Then— hist— 

PATTY— Where? 

TEDDY — To the cloak-room in the hall. Me thinks 
there is a punch-bowl. 

PATTY— There is not. 

TEDDY— How do you know? 

PATTY— I looked. 

TEDDY — Never mind, I know of a chemist just across 
the street whose Ice Cream Sodas are said to possess the 
least amount of Ptomaine germs of any in the village. 

PATTY— THAT sounds good to me. 

TEDDY — Then come and we will annex a couple. 

FATTY— (Looking L.j— There's Mrs. Kirkland talk- 
ing with Billy. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 43 

TEDDY — Yes, and look at Billy. Note 'the convulsive 
opening and shutting of the right hRnd.^fHe illnstrates) 
Denoting anger and peevishness. He used to know Miss 
Simnionds real well. 

PATTY — He's watching Marion and Dickie Stanhope 
now. 

TEDDY — Exactly. Come on, let's fortify ourselves 
at the chemists, there mav be a "Fray" when we get back. 

PATTY— r^i' they go up C.)—A what? 

TEDDY— Fracas— Melee— Hors de Combat.— 

"Scrap." Er! A fight. 

PATTY— Between Dickie Stanhope and Barclay? 

TEDDY— Of course. 

PATTY— Don't be silly. 

TEDDY — I can't help it, when I'm with you, dar- 
ling. — (They exit C. and R. The music stops. Mary Anne 
and Stanhope join Mrs. KirMand and Billy at the arch L. 
Dick takes Mary Anne to R. where she sits on the divan. 
Billy and Mrs. Kirkwood follow inside the room a little.) 

MARY ANNE — (Now a complete master of herself and 
all timidity gone in the exhiliration of the dance.) — Oh, 
d^ar, that was wonderful. 

DICKIE— You dance beautifully. 

MARY ANNE — Thank you. It's been so long since 
I've tried, I was afraid I had forgotten how. 

BILLY — (Gomes over) — May I 'be favored with the 
next one ? 

MRS. KYRKhMiT)— (Quickly )— now Marion, dear, 
don't tire yourself, but as Mr. Barclay is an old friend I 
suppose he HAS a claim upon you. Why didn't you men- 
tion your early acquaintance with him, my dear. 

MARY ANNE — It was such a long time ago. Nearly 
two years — we were just boy and girl and — (Billy doesn't 
know exactly how she means this hut he goes over to the- 
divan to her. Dickie meets Mrs. Kirkland at L.C-) 

BILLY — Why it only seems like yesterday to me. We 
danced together at the Hillsby's barn dance. You wore a 
funny little dress that didn't tit. Your hair all tumbled 
about your face. 

MARY — I must have looked funny to you? 

BILLY — (Dreamily) — You haven't changed a bit. 

MARY ANNE— (^To Mrs. Kirkland)— Aimtie, Mr. 
Barclay says that my dress doesn 't fit and my hair needs 
combing. 



44 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. KlUKhAND— (Laughing)— Oh, surely— 

BILLY — No, I didn't mean that — you have changed 
Mary Anne. Changed since this afternoon. Awfully. 

MARY ANNE— I'm sorry it's AWFUL.— ('Mrs. Kirk- 
land and Dickie turn to go L-) 

DIiCK — (Smiling to Billy) — Oh, take good care of her 
for me old man, won't you? Be careful Marion, don't sit 
in a draft, or anything. 

MARY ANNE— No, I wo\\\.—(Dick and Mrs. Kirk- 
land exit L.) 

BILLY — (Annoyed a little at Dick's words) — ^It seems 
so strange meeting you again today, and — like this. Let 
me fan you. 

MARY A'^^^— (Surrenders her fan)— It IS quite 
warm this evening. 

BILLY — Yes, isn't it? — (Takes the fan and in his em- 
barrassment fans himself, he sees what he is doing) — I beg 
your pardon, I'm rattled. Mary Anne, little Mary Anne 
is this really you ? 

MARY ANNE— (Smiling)— Why, I think so, Mr. 
Barclay. Yes, I'm quite sure of it. — (Billy forgets and 
fans himself again, she reaches over and directs the breeze 
towards herself.) — You were saying? 

BILLY— So I was! What was it? 

MARY ANNE — Perhaps we'd better join the others. 

BILLY — And spoil these wonderful moments? Oh, 
please ! 

MARY ANNE— Are they wonderful? 

BILLY — I don't know whether I just imagine them, 
or whether they're true. When I ithink of you as I saw 
you this afternoon, and now — 

MARY ANNE— Really, I don't feel in the mood for 
personalities, Mr. Barclay. 

BILLY — I beg your pardon. But a fellow's got to 
speak out if he's human. When he meets the girl who was 
his first little sweetheart, and finds that the bud has 
blossomed into a beautiful rose — 

MARY AN'NE— (Pretending)— Oh, dear! Such flat- 
tery. 

BILLY— Flattery? I— 

MARY A'^NE— (Rising to L.)—l think I'd rather 
dance. 

BILLY — (Rising and follows) — I meant every word 
of it. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 45 

MARY ANNE — Oh, they say boys always do, for the 
moment. 

BILLY — Don't be cruel, Mary Anne. You were al- 
ways the dainty sort of creature that made a fellow feel 
all hands and feet, but you were gentle and kind. 

MARY ANNE— Stand without hitching. 

BILLY — Why he'd just talk his heart out to you be- 
fore he knew what he was about. 

MARY ANNE — And never mean a word of it. 

BILLY — But I did. I did. Do you remember that 
last dance we went to together, and coming home by moon- 
light — ^the wild roses by the roadside ? 

MARY ANNE — (Still teasing — pretends to think 
deeply.) — Let me see, did we walk, or did we ride? 

BILLY — Oh, you won't be serious. 

MARY ANNE — (Laughing) — ^Serious! Why one 
would almost think you had been serious yourself. 

BILLY — I was serious. I acknowledge you did grow 
a bit dim in my mind after we stopped writing — 

MARY ANNE— "We" did you say? 

BILLY — (Hastily) — I've always wanted to explain 
that. Dad thought we were both so young, and asked me 
to drop the correspondence until I was through college. I 
thought a few years wouldn't make so much of a difference 
and I meant to come back when my probation was up — 

MARY ANNE— And find me" waiting— ? 

BILLY — I know I deserve it. I suppose I can hardly 
make you understand why I didn't. 

MARY ANNE— I'm afraid that WOULD be difficult. 
But after all why should you try ? 

BILLY — (Impulsively) — Because I'm crazy about 
you all over again. — (Starts toward her — she eludes him 
and moves R.) — ^Mary Anne, little Mary Anne, can't we 
go back to where we were? — to the wild roses and the 
moonshine ? 

MARY ANNE— Back on that country road ? In this 
gown ? Horrors ? 

BILLY — (Unmindful) — No. No, back to where we 
were — 

MARY Ani^E— (Gravely)— Vm afraid that's impos- 
sible NOW, Mr. Barclay. 

BILLY— "Now"? Impossible? You mean that you 
and — 



46 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MARY ANNE — You couldn't expect me to keep sac- 
red such a childish romance any more than you have done. 

BILLY — But Mary Anne, I swear — (Dick Stanhope 
enters L. with Mason.) 

DICK — (Smiling to Barclay) — -Sorry, old man, I'll 
have to take her away from you now. I promised her to 
Mason for this next one. 

MARY ANNE — Yes, and I 'm dying for n dance. Come 
along Mr. Mason. 

MASON — Book me for one every niglit this winter — 
(Mary Anne skips across to Mason and drags him off L.) 

BILLY — (Angry — to Dick) — I don't like the way you 
said that. 

DICK— r/»»oce«i?y;— What? 

BILLY— "YOU'VE promised her." 

DICK— What's the raatter with it? 

BILLY — There seemed to be a subtle note of posses- 
sion in it. 

DIiCK— Didn't know I could DO it. What's the idea? 

BILLY — (Sarcastically ) — While you are handing her 
around so promiscuously, what's the matter with me. 

DICK: — I let you have her for a while, didn't I? — 
(Patty and Teddy enter C. from R.) 

BILL — Yes, but where do you come in to — 

DICK — Now, don't be a pig. Don't be a pig. 

BILLY — (Threateningly) — Say, look here — 

TEDDY— (Who thinks his predicted "Fracas" has 
arrived, comes down between them in alarm) — Now boys — 
boys — 

DICK— ^To Ter/r/i/j- What's the matter with you? 

TEDDY — (Dramatic ally) — No quarreling now — no 
(|uarreling. Remember where you are. — (Elaine and Trella 
oiler from C. From L. Patty comes down L.) 

DICK— ( Laughing ) — I know where I am all right. — 
(To Patty)— This one with me, Patty? 

PATTY— Purely.— (Patty and Dick exit off L.) 

TEDDY— r^ooL^ off L- j— That's cool. 

TRELLA— Cool? It's positively chilly. 

TEDDY— This is MY dance with Miss Simmonds. 

TRELLA — Not this one, she's dancing with Charley 
Mason. 

TEDDY— Well, I wonder where I come ml— (Teddy 
exits off L.) 



( 



THE GOLDEN AGE 47 

ELAINE— ( Looking at Billy)— ThaVs what every- 
one seems to be wondering. 

BILLY— ( Gruffly )—rm not, if that's what you mean. 

ELAINE— I didn't say ''You." 

TRELLA — I think it's a shame we let Miss Slissy go. 
She would have been more popular than some of us girls. 

ELAINE — "Dickie" Stanhope seems to have taken 
complete charge of Miss Mary Anne Simmonds this even- 
ing. 

TRELLA — Did you ever see anything like it? 

BILLY— That's a habit the Stanhope's have. 

ELAINE — (Spitefully) — ^Cheer up, perhaps your 
turn will come again. 

BILLY — (Bitterly) — I had my turn and I threw it 
away. — (He turns upstage.) 

ELAINE — (Sarcastically, moving down to R.) — How 
careless. 

BILLY— Excuse me.— (He exits C. to R.) 

TRELLA — (Looking after him hut speaking to Elaine) 
I ASK you ? 

ELAINE — (Beside herself) — He's acting like a per- 
fect fool. 

TRELLA — A- fool my dear — perfect or imperfect. 

ELAINE — And perhaps she isn't the sly little minx. 
"Pig Tails and Ginghams"! 

TRELLA — And now she turns out to be the niece of 
Mrs. Drexel Kirkland and trotted about by "Dickie" 
Stanhope. There's some class to that little country maiden. 

ELAINE— Runs a tea shop by day, and a leader of 
fashion by night. You can't tell me it isn't "fishy." 

TRELLA— Just what is the inference ? 

ELAINE — Mrs. Kirkland is the inference. That girl 
never wore a gown like that in her life before — -and the 
maid. 

TRELLA— "French." 

ELAINE — Mrs. Kirkland 's. I've seen her in New 
York. 

TRELLA— The fairy Godmother's— you're right. 

ELAINE — Look what she was this afternoon, a frum- 
py little country bumpkin, now queening it over us all. 
And going to New York with her aunt, her social position 
will be better than mine, her gowns more beautiful, I be- 
lieve that nasty old aunt has worked this out on purpose. 



48 THE GOLDEN AGE 

TRELLA— To slap Billy Barclay in the face. He 
almost lost his balance when Dickie brought her in. 

ELAINE— All the boys have gone off their heads 
aboiit her.— ("Mar;!/ Anne enters. Site draws hack when she 
finds the two girls alone.) 

MARY ANNE— Oh, I beg your pardon. 

"ELAINE—f Sweetly)— Not 'at all, come in. We've 
hardly had a word with you since you came. 

MARY ANNE — I've been having such a good time, 
Miss Jewett. 

ELAINE — T feel that I owe you an apology. 

MARY ANNE— (Sits in the armchair L. Trella re- 
niains up C.) — Indeed! For what? 

ELAINE — For my questions this afternoon. They 
must have been embarrassing. 

MARY ANNE— I didn't find them so. 

ELAINE — I thought you might have, considering — 

MARY ANNE— That" I was the liftle countrv bump- 
kin ? 

ELAINE— It seems you don't ALWAYS wear "Pig- 
tails and Ginghams." 

MARY ANNE — One can't remain a country bumpkin 
forever. Miss Jewett. 

ELAINE — I hope you don't misunderstand our con- 
versation of this afternoon. 

:\IARY ANNE— Misunderstand? How? 

ELAINE — Why I thought perhaps I might have lead 
you to 1)elieve I was engaged to Mr. Barclay. 

MARY ANNE — If I remember correctly, you did say 
that. 

ELAINE— I didn't mean that it had been settled, pos- 
itively. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, and isn't it? 

ELAINE— No. It's not settled. 

MARY ANNE— It's very kind, but WHY are you 
telling me? 

ELAINE- — I only wished it to be cleai- to you that I — 

TRELLA — (Coming forward) — If you will pardon 
the remark, that's a beautiful gown, Miss Simmonds. 

MARY ANNE — (Rising — pleased hut still on guard) 
You like it? 

TRELLA — Exquisite. Who, may I ask, is your mo- 
diste ? 



THE OOLDEN AGE 49 



^lARY ANNE— Madame Blanche, Fifth Avenue— I 
don 't know the number, what the telephone is — 

TREhhA—( Easily )— Oh, I know the place well. She 
deals in nothing but imports. Pacquin of course, or is it 
Froquard ? 

MARY ANNE— ('Ha.'? ii from her a ///( 0— "Pacquin— 
can't you see it in the lines? 

TRELLA — I believe I can, now 'that you mention it. 
Er — have you known her long? 

MARY ANNE — Mrs. Pacquin? No, not so very. — 
(Trc'lla laughs.) 

ELAINE — How is it we have never seen you in New 
York witli vour -aunt. Miss Simmonds? 

MARY ANNE— r^/ a loss)— Well I— I haven't come 
out yet, that's why. 

ELAINE — Oh, I see. Well, lets hope it will be soon, 
we shall 'be glad to welcome you. 

MARY ANNE— Thank you. 

TRELLA — It was rather a good joke you played on 
us this afternoon. 

MARY ANNE— Joke? 

TRELLA — Yes — the costume you wore when you 
wore when we called at your mother's for tea. The — hat, 
vou know. 

MARY ANNE— The hat? Oh, yes; that's a wonder- 
ful hat to wear when one milks. 

ELAINE— f/H /iorror;— Milks? 

TRELLA— f7« surprise)— 'Cows ? 

MARY ANNE — Certainly. Harmonizes with the sur- 
roundings, attracts the cattle's attention, makes them gentle 
and subdued. 

ELAINE— Oh, I see. 

TRELLA— Is it a new idea? 

MARY ANNE — Oh, yes, very new, I was just trying 
it for the first time today? 

TRELLA— Do you' really milk the beasts ? 

MARY ANNE— The cows? Of course I do— it's lots 
of fun — but the hired man lielps me sometimes. He wears 
the same kind of a hat too. 

ELAINE— Really ? 

MARY ANNE— Only for him. the trimming is dififer- 
_ent. 

TRELLA — I believe she's stringing us. 

MARY ANNE— Stringing? 



50 THE GOLDEN AGE 

TRELLA— Yes, kidding. 

MARY ANNE— f/nnocen^%;— Why in the world 
should you think that ? You see there is a certain psychol- 
ogy in the management of a farm, if you want to study it 
out, you — 

ELAINE — (S'ttffly) — I must come up some day and 
have vou show me how it's done. 

MARY ANNE— Yes, do— I'll be glad to have you. 

TRELLA — iPsychology in cows and chickens? I nev- 
er heard of such a thing. 

ELAINE — Nor I. Still some queer things happen in 
the country, I'm told. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, that's not the only place. Coun- 
try people think the city folks are queer sometimes. 

TRELLA — ^Yes, I suppose so. It takes all kind of 
people to make a world. — (Barclay enters C, Mary Anne 
sees him.) 

MARY ANNE— fTo Elaine)— I really had forgotten 
your remarks, really I had. 

ELAINE — Then you must have forgiven them. 

MARY ANNE — "Pigtail and Gingham romances. Miss 
Jewett, 'are seldom honafide. Please don't think I took 
mine too seriously. 

MRS. KlRKh AND— (Enters L. . She sees Mary Anne 
and goes to her) — Here you are dear, where have you been? 
Dickie's worried sick. — (Calls off L.) — ^She's here, Dickie. 
(Dick enters L. to Mary Anne.) 

DICK — (Playfully) — How dare you stay away from 
me so long? 

MARY ANNE — I was being entertained by Miss 
Jewett and Miss Webb. 

TnEhhA—( Aside to ^lawe;— Entertained ! Oh!— 
(Mrs. Kirkland relieves the situation caused hy Billy's 
apparent glaring at Dick.) 

MRS. KlEKh AND— (Rounding up the others)— Oh, 
Elaine, Billy, do let's have a look at the charming little 
hotel. What an innovation for Farmdale. Your father 
deserves credit. — (They move up C.) — I can remember, 
when I was a girl, the only hotel in this town was the 
Mansion House. Of course in those days we thought it 
pretty good, etc. Is this the office up this way? — (Billy, 
Mrs. Kirkland, Trella and Elaine exit C. to R.) 

DICK— fTo Mary Anne)^'^e\\, how am I doing? 

MARY ANNE— Splendidly. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 51 

DICK — Billy was so mad he nearly lost his head a 
moment ago. 

MARY ANNE— Bet'ter not make him TOO mad. 

DICK — It's great fun though.— ("fl^e looks at her)— 
My, .you do look stunning in that gown. 

MARY A^'N'E— (Pleased)— Yon think so? 

DICK— I should say I do. 

MARY ANNE— I think it's pretty too. 

DICK — Gee ! Makes me feel great to kind of boss you 
around this way, in front of the other fellows. 

MARY ANNE — Why, Auntie says you have hundreds 
of girls, just ifalling over themselves, wishing to be l)ossed 
around by you. 

DICK — Never saw one yet — I care much about. That's 
what makes this great. Bossing somebody who doesn't care 
for me you know. I mean, — 'that isn't really in earnest. 

MARY ANNE — (Archly) — Are you so afraid of being 
grabbed up by somebody? 

DICK — It isn't that. But you have no idea what be- 
ing 'a rich man's son means. You never know whether a 
girl is really on the level or not. 

MARY ANNE— And YOU want one on the LEVEL ? 

DICK — You bet I do. I'd want to be sure she loves 
me, money or no money. 

MARY ANNE— That's the right way to feel. 

DICK — (Confidentially) — Billy's a nice fellow; I've 
known him a long while. He's just easilv influenced, that's 
all. 

MARY ANNE— You think so ? 

DICK — Sure. Elaine and Trella and that bunch, they 
have biased his view point. 

MARY ANNE — He has spoken to me ^already as if he 
were quite willing to renew our acquaintance. 

DICK — (Enthusiastic) — Then it's working? 

MARY A'^^^—( Seriously )— Bui somehow it didn't 
sound quite sincere. 

DICK — We'll lead him such a merry dance, it will 
make him sincere. 

MARY ANNE — There's no one you may offend ? — no— 

DICK — (Laughing) — ^Girl, you mean? No. 

MARY ANNE — Haven't you ever been in love? 

DICK — No ! — I thought I was once, but — 

MARY K^^^— (] nt crested)— Oh, tell me. - 



52 THE GOLDEN AGE 

DICK — It was my first year in higli school. iShe was 
about seven years older than I was. I used to ride out to 
her house on my bicycle ; sit on her front porch, sing songs 
to her and look at the moon. 

MARY ANNE— Where is she now ? 

DICK — ^She's married — mother of three children and 
lives in Elizabeth. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, good gracious. 

DICK— (Poetically) — Ah, what a romance that was. 

MARY ANNE— And what a fimsh.— (Mary Anne 
laughs. The waiter enters with a tray of punch in glasses. 
Teddy and Patty enter from L.) 

TEDDY — Ah, liquid provender and refreshment, My 
treat, I bribed the local chemist across the street to mix 
it for us. — (Waiter puts the tray on the desk up L. Mason 
and Henderson enter from L. and, Trella, Elaine, Billy and 
Mrs. Kirk stroll on from C. and R.) 

DICK— Fine idea, Teddy. 

TEDDY — It's all to the good, I sampled some a while 
ago. — (Dick takes some to Mary Anne.) 

MARY ANNE— (Taking the glass)— Thank you.— 
(Teddy serves Barclay who offers it to Elaine.) 

ELAINE — None for me thank you. — (The other hoys 
serve the other ladies. The waiter exits.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (^To Mary Anncj-lUving a nice 
time dear? 

MARY ANNE — (Sipping the punch) — Heavenly! 

MASON — The only trouble is. Miss Simmonds, is too 
popular. Danger of duels and all that sort of thing before 
the evening is over. 

MARY ANNE — (Laughing) — ^Be sure and have the 
duels by moonlight, they'll be so much more picturesque. 

HENDERSON — (Mockingly heroic) — Miss Simmonds, 
how can you be so heartless ? 

TEDDY — Have you no pity for your unfortunate vic- 
tims ? 

MARY ANNE — (Laughing) — Men are happiest when 
fighting for their lady-loves. Wliy pity them ? 

DICK — ( Proudly )— Happiest moment in MY young 
life. Anybody want to fight? — (Everyone takes in this 
egotistical remark. The men have gradually drawn about 
Mary Anne who sits in arm chair L. Mrs. Kickland and 
Patty are L. of her. Elaine and Trella are seated on the- 



THE GOLDEN AGE 53 

Divan R. Billy stands hehind them. Dick's remark is a 
''poser" of possession.) 

HENDERSON— fLooA'i»(7 at Dick)— hiicky dog. 

TEDBY~( Also at Dick)— ''mm that hath, GIT- 
TETH." 

MASON — (Regarding Dick) — A natural born trouble 
maker. — (The music begins, Mary Anne rises, Dick takes 
her glass and puts it up on desk L.) 

MARY ANNE— (Clapping her hands)— Who's going 
to dance with me? — (Everyone tries to be first.) 

MASON— I am. 

HENDERSON— No, this one's mine. 

TEDDY — (To others) — Wait — wait — where do I come 
in ? Like the little gentleman that I am I have 'waited pa- 
tiently — silently, unobtrusively. — (The hu'bbul) becomes 
confusion among the boys, quarreling about this dance, 
when Dick breaks in coming down in the midst of them.) 

DICK — Boys — Boys — I'm sorry to disappoint you, but 
THIS is the dance which I have ESiPECIALLY reserved 
for myself. — (He offers his arm to Mary Anne, she accepts 
and they move to L. followed by the protesting mob, Teddy 
is especially sore. The remarks from these young gentle- 
men are as follows) — ^Aw — don't be a "goop." "What 
do' you want? The earth?" "Where do I come in?" 
' ' Have a heart, Dickie, have a heart. ' ' Pause ! Pause ! 
etc., etc. — (Dick and Mary Anne exit L. the crowd goes far 
as the door. Barclay stares after them in sullen silence. 
Trella is too surprised to speak. Elaine bites tier lip in 
anger. Patty and Mrs. Kirk are amused.) 

END OF ACT II. 



54 THE GOLDEN AGE 

ACT III. 

SCENE — A room in Mrs. Kirkland's home in New 
York. June, 1917. Afternoon. 

Up C. a h uge fireplace. A small arch L. of it with part 
of a staircase showing. A small arch R. of it leads to the 
front part of the house. A hay window with window seat 
L.I. overlooking S5th St. E., R.I. is a small arch leads to 
other parts of the house. 

C. a huge divan ivith table and lamp behind it. Large 
armchair L.C. Bookcase L. above the window. Desk R- 
above the arch. The room is a private den or sitting room. 

AT RISE — There is music out R. on the Victrola. 

On the divan C. are four hat boxes with hats for Mary 
Anne. 

Billy Barclay is standing at the window L. looking 
down the street. Mrs. Kirkland and Trella enter R.I. 

TRELLA — Billy, Elaine's asking for you. 

BILLY — Yes, I'm coming. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Were you watcliing the boys? 

BILLY — Yes. There's quite a bunch of them. That's 
the 73rd Regiment, isn't it? The crowd that Dickie Stan- 
hope and Mason and the others are going with ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes. They form at the corner 
of 85th St. there, and fall into position when their time 
comes. They're not due to start till 5. 

BILLY — What became of Mary Anne? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— She rushed up to her room and 
put on her riding suit a while ago. She and Dickie took 
Prince and Hunter out for one last mad dash through the 
park before he left. 

BILLY — He's running chances if the C.O. hears of it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Oh, the boys are not standing on 
much ceremony today. The officers don't expect it. Their 
last day you know. They're everywhere with relatives and 
friends. So long as they are in their place when the com- 
mand is given to move, it's all right, they go to Canada, 
you know — 

BILLY — Taking a last fling, as it were. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Exactly. As my house was so near 
their starting point I told all I knew to make themselves 
at home. Trella wanted to see Lloyd, and I thought you'd 



THE GOLDEN AGE 55 

like to say goodbye to some of them too. Some you may 
never see again. 

BILLY — Oh, of course I want to wish them luck. 

TRELLA — Come on, Billy, I promised Elaine I'd 
bring you. 

BILLY — Why don't you give this dance to one of the 
soldier boys? 

TRELLA — Two or three have asked her but she said 
she promised you. 

BILLY — Well, a civilian has no right butting into a 
soldiers' farewell party. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Nonsense. It's all right— per- 
fectly informal. Besides you'll be a soldier yourself before 
long. 

BILLY — You mean if the draft goes through. Well, 
it's the only way they'll get me. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You'll be as crazy to fight as any 
of them before long. I know boys. 

BILLY— I'll be crazy all right. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Well, come along now and help 
to give those who are going a royal good send off. — (They 
exit R.I. The Victrola is still j)laying. A bell rings R.C- 
Felice enters L.C. and exits R.C. She returns in a moment 
followed by Miss Slissy.) 

MISS SLISSY— f^Sffops R.C. and looks i?.;-^Sounds 
like there's a party going on. 

FELICE — Oui, madame. A tea dansant in honor of 
the boys who go to France. 

MISS SLISSY— If they're giving a party to all that 
mob I saw in the street they're got their hands full. 

FELICE — Just a few acquaintances of Madame. 

MISS SLISSY-^She's at home, I think you said. Will 
you please take her my card. — (Fishes in her bag for a 
card) — I had one somewhere — Oh, here it is. — (Finds an 
envelope from which she extracts a large card written by 
hand with a silver dove in one corner. This she hands to 
Felice.) — After Mrs. Kirkland gets through seeing who it 
is, you can bring that card iback to me, if she ain't noticin'. 

FELICE — Oui, Madame. — (She represses a smile and 
exits R.I. Miss Slissy looks out of the window and then 
comes back to the arm chair L.C. and fussing with her gown 
sits. She holds the position looking about the room, then 
sees the hat boxes. Curiosity gets the better of her and she 
rises and goes over. She lifts the lid from the first one and 



56 THE CtOLDEN AGE 

takes out the hat looking it over critically. Slie expresses 
her opinion contempiuously.) 

MISS SLISSY— Humph!— f^S'/(e peeps into the second 
box after replacing the first hat and is just putting the cov- 
er on the third when Mrs. Kirkland enters R. of the fire- 
place. The maid follows and exits to R.I. Miss Slissy, 
clears her throat and tries to assume a careless manner.) — 
Pretty coverin ' on these boxes ! Sort of wall-paperish ! 

MRS. KJUKLA^D— (Looking at the card she holds) 
Miss Sarah Applegate Slissv ? 

MISS SLISSY— Yes, "Mrs. Kirkland. How do vou 
do? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (Accepting her hand politely)— 
I'm very well, thank vou. You are from Farmdale? 

MISS SLISSY— i kinda thought you'd rememlier me. 
being as how I'm the milliner and dressmaker there. That's 
why I was interested in the hat boxes. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I believe I've heard my sister 
speak of you, quite favorably. 

MISS SLISSY— She ought to mention me favorable 
after all the fuss I had turnin' her old black dress last 
winter; and tho' I do say it, which I s'pose I shouldii't, I 
wasn't paid by half for that dress, which I should have 
been. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — I presume my sister paid all you 
asked. . 

MISS SLISSY— Yes, I s'pose she did. I always was 
too easy goin' for my own good, but she might have added 
a little, as a present or somethin' — Do you mind telling 
me if them beads you're wearing are real or imitation? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— r»S^m«7i»(/;— Real, I hope. 

MISS SLISSY— I s'pose they must be. Foolish of me 
to ask, rememberin' how rich you are. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Won't you sit down? 

MISS SLISSY— Thanks. Don't mind if I do. Have 
been standing for quite a spell. — (She sits L.C.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Are vou in the city on business? 

MISS SLISvSY— Always try to get to the city once a 

year to buy goods. Mostly I go to Bridgeport, but I thought 

maybe the stvles in New York would be more cosmopolitan. 

' MRS. KmKhAND—(Smiling)—rm SURE you'll 

find them so. 

MISS SLISSY- Would you mind givin' that card 
back to me ? 



THE GOLDEN A(;E 57 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Certainly.— ri/ands it to her.) 
"MISS SLISSY — Visitin' cards like these is very ex- 
pensive. Written by hand. Look at them flourishes, and 
that shiny dove, ain't that cute? 

MRS. KIRKL AND— It's beautiful. 

MISS SLISSY— Charlie Watson, the barber in our 
town done 'em. He's awful artistic. — (She looks at the 
can] entically aint fingers the edge.) — I've only used this 
one twice. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I hope it's uninjured. 

MISS SLISSY— Little crack across this corner, but 
no one would notice it much. He charges sixty cents a 
dozen. I got 'em last iChristmas.— f T/^ere is a slight pause- 
Mrs. Kirhlanel not wisJiing to he impolite, yet not wishing 
fo encourage her too much. Finally 3Iiss Slissy oiquires) 
]\Iarv Anne at home ? 

"MRS. KIRKLAND— Not yet. She's out riding. 

]\IISS SLISSY — 'She must have a lot of time on her 
hands, livin' here with you, an' doin' nothin'. 

:\IRS. KIRKLAND— Oh, Marion is never idle. She 
has her social duties and her studies. 

:V[TSS SLISSY— She goin' to school again? 

3IRS. KIRKLAND— Private studies. French lessons, 
dancing lessons, later into the liands o'f the hair dresser and 
the manicure. Then there are afternoon teas ; dinners 
sometimes at Sherry's or the Ritz — ^the Opera — 

MISS SLISSY— Land! She does go it. And to think 
she used to be a Sunday School teacher at Farmdale Metho- 
dist Church. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well, she's still eligible for that 
position. Lately most of Marion's time has been devoted 
to war and charitv work. 

MISS SLISSY— Of course, we're all doin' that. But 
still I think she ought to be comin' home soon. Her Ma 
ain't well. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— There must be some mistake 
about that. I had a letter from my sister this morning 
saving she never felt better in her life. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, all I know is that when I was 
sayin' to her yesterday that I didn't suppose Mary Anne 
would ever :be the same girl she was before Billy Barclay 
jilted her, she answered me in such a snappy way anyone 
could see her nerves were givin' away. 



58 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. KlRKhAND— (Sweetly)— Some people give 
way so EASILY to little things. 

MISS SLISSY — Anyhow Mary Anne's got no business 
stayin' on up here with things the way they are at home. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Don't you think we are the best 
judges of that ? 

MISS SLIS-SY— Yes, I spose' but durin' the storm 
last week, the rain broke through her poor Ma's roof and 
spilled the ceiling in the spare room. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— r^Su'^e^^ sarcastic)— Well, now, 
that is too bad. Perhaps if Marion had been there she 
might have spread herself over the roof in such a fashion 
it would have prevented a catastrophe of that kind. 

MISS SLISSY— I don't know what that is, but she 
would have been some comfort to her mother. She's gad- 
din' around considerable with that Mr. Stanhope, ain't she 
now ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Really, Miss Slissy, I'm afraid 
I shan't be able to furnish you with any gossip to carry 
back to Farmdale. 

MISS SLISSY— Oh, it ain't gossip exactly; but there 
are folks 'd just like to know, that's all. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Mr. Stanhope and my niece are 
just good friends as they have always been. And since he 
has been in uniform has had little time to gad anywhere 
with anyone. He leaves with his regiment todav. 

MISS SLISSY— Yes, there's a lot of boys from our 
town goin' too. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Perhaps you will find Marion at 
home the next time you are in the city. 

MISS SLISSY— Is that a hint? 

MRS. KIRKLAND^Certainly not. I hope you don't 
think I'd— 

MISS SLISSY— Oh, that's all right, I'm used to 'em. 
I don't know but what it might be seein' you got a, party 
goin' on in the front parlor. They seemed to be enjoyin' 
themselves. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Just a few of the boys who are 
leaving this afternoon. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, I couldn't stay anyhow, even 
if you asked me. I've got to be goin' if I expect to catch 
that train that gets me in before dark. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Don't you think you might pos- 
sibly wait? 



THE GOLDEN AGE 59 



MISS SLISSY— f/^m>i(/;— No, thank you, I'm afraid 
not. You see, the next train won't get me home till after 
eleven and I couldn 't think of walkin ' up from the station 
unprotected. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Marion would be glad to see you 
and — 

MISS SLISSY — Thank you, there ain't of course 
nothin' I would like l)etter, but it's too risky. You can 
tell Mary Anne I was here to try and cheer her up a bit. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— It's too bad she's missed it. 

MISS SLISSY — Would you mind my peekin' in that 
other hat box, seein' as I am here to get the styles. I saw 
all the others. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Not at all— (Miss Slissij opens 
the fourth box and takes out the hat. She holds it up crit- 
ic all i/.) 

MISS SLI SS Y— You 'n ? 

MRS KlUKhA^D— (Shakes her head)— Marion's 

MISS SLISSY— r^mi/es knowingly)— Thought it 
looked a little "pert" for you. Which one's your'n? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— They're all Marion's. 

MISS SLISSY— All four? 

MRS. KIRKLAND- Yes. 

MISS SLISSY — Land ! I suppose you give about 
$40.00 for this. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Eighty-five. 

MISS ^hlSSY— (Shakes her head pitijingly )— Row 
they do cheat you people in the city. I can duplicate it 
for eighteen. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— With difficulty, I'm afraid. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, the silk IS a little better than 
I'm used to usin'. What's she want with four hats all to 
once ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND — She never wears more than two 
at the same time. 

MISS SLISSY — You mean to say she wears a couple 
of hats on her head to once? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I said she never wore MORE than 
two. 

MISS SLISSY— Well the more I see of city folks and 
their ways, the less I understand them. I'm thankful I 
don't live in the city. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— We all have much to be thankful 
for. 



60 THP] GOLDEN AGE 

MISS SLISSY— Now, that's the first comfortin' thmg 
I've heard you say since I been here — that sounds natural 
and makes me feel to home. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'm sorry. 

MISS SLISSY — -It's just what our preacher says when 
he's visitin' around. "We've a lot to be thankful for" 
he says, "TOO much, I'd think HE'D think. Seein' rs 
how he's got ten children now and goin' on eleven. Well, 
I guess I'd better be startin'. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Don't you think you can possibly 
stay for tea? 

MISS iSLISSY— No, I don't tliink.— ^Mari/ Anne en- 
ters R.CJ. in a very stylish mannish riding suit with breeches, 
Iter hat off and flushed ivith exercise.) — Land Sakes! 

MARY ANNE— Hello ! Miss Slissy. 

MISS SLISSY— Mary Anne Simmonds! What on 
earth have you got on ? 

MARY ANNE— My riding suit, of course. Don't 
vou think it's pretty'? 

MISS SLISSY— Pretty? It's shockin'. Do you mean 
to say you ride straddle? 

MARY ANNE — I ride a man's saddle, it's much eas- 
ier and safer. How's every one at Kome and mother and 
the chickens and — . 

MISS SLISSY— If you 'IL wait till I get my breath 
after seein' you in them clothes, I'll answer. I suppose 
you know you're showin' your — My Goodne.'^s! Your 
mother's well as could be expected, seein' she has all the 
work to do. Betsy not :bein' any help at all she's so head 
over heels in love with the hired man. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— r To Mary Anne)— I received a 
letter from your mother this 'morning. I left it on your 
dressing table. She's well and hap.py. Misses you, of 
course, it's only natural. 

MARY ANNE — I've been too happy to be homesick, 
but I've missed her a lot too. — (To Miss Slissy) — Won't 
you take off your things and — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I've asked Miss Slissy to remain 
to tea, but she's in such a hurry to catch her train. 

MISS SLISSY— My visit's almost up seein' I've been 
here nearly a half hour already, waitin'. 

MARY ANNE— I 'm sorry. If I had known— 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Have you a tari ? 



THE GOLDEN AGE 61 



MISS SLISSY— Land! No, I can't ride in them 
things. It gives me heart failure to watch the meter. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— ("Pre-sses a hutton over R.)—Vl\ 
send you to the station in the limousine. 

MISS SLISSY— You'll- 
MRS. KIRKLAND— I'll have Randolph take you to 
the station in the limousine. 

MISS SLISSY — I never rode in one of them things in 
all my life. 

MARY ANNE — Give my love to Mumsey — and every- 
l>odv who cares, and to "Skeeters" — how is Skeetersf 

^MISS SLISSY— That dog of your'ai? About the 
same. He always is. 

MARY ANNE — ^Kiss him for me, on his old wooly 
head. 

MISS SLISSY— Kiss a dog's head? I will not. Mary 
Anne, you're runnin' wild. 

MARY ANNE — Figuratively, I mean. 

MISS 'SLISSY— I won't kiss a dog anyway.— f/^or/- 
gers enters R.I., a servant of 60. Male.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Rodgers, tell Randolph to bring 
the limousine around, and take Miss Slissy to the Grand 
Central Station. 

RODGER— Yes, ma'am.— ("Fe exits R.I.) 

MISS SLISSY— That's awfully kind of you. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Not at all, I'm delighted. 

MISS I^IA^^Y— (Going R.)—l never rode in a limou- 
sine before. 

MARY ANNE — I hope you have a pleasant journey 
home. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And a SAFE one. 

MISS iSLISSY— Oh, I ain't afraid when I get there 
in the daytime. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Give my love to everybody. Rod- 
gers will put you in the ear. 

MISS SLISSY— Thanks. I always did mention you 
to the folks at home as being real nice. — (She pauses at the 
door) — Mary Anne, I say your hats — ^^some of 'em's real 
chic and ought to 'be becomin' but that ridin' suit!!!! — 
of course, I won't say a word to anybody else — but WAIT 
I tell your mother. Good-bye. 

MARY ANNE AND MRS. KIRKLAND— Good-bye. 
etc., etc. — (Miss Slissy exits R.I.) 



62 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MARY ANNE — (To her aunt, laughing) — Dear me, 
and I walked right into it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I've had a trying quarter of an 
hour, but she's so funny I can't be angry with her. 

MARY ANNE — She's almost tormented mother to 
death with questions about me, ever since I've been away, 
now she'll pester her with my riding suit. I'll have to 
write at once and forestall that. I 'm afraid, Auntie, you 've 
found it difficult to keep from saying things not printed in 
the book entitled "How to be polite." 

MRS. KIRKLAND— She's the most exasperating fe- 
male I ever met in all my life. However, I took the wind 
out of her sails when I sent her to the station in the car. 
The village will get a 'good report of me when she gets 
back. 

MARY ANNE— You're so wise. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Did you enjoy the ride? 

MARY ANNE— Oh, Auntie, it was wonderful. I've 
known how to manage a horse ever since I was a little tot, 
so high, and I love it. I love it. And Dickie said — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— That was rather daring of you 
to steal Dickie away right under our very noses for a horse- 
back ride. He has such a short time — 

MARY ANNE — But it maybe our last ride for a long 
time, Auntie. And besides Dickie himself proposed it. 
But it was such fun. We sneaked away and not a soul but 
you knew it. Dickie said I'm riding now like one born to 
an English sadddle. But who couldn't ride on Hunter? 
He's just kind of a mount I like. He prances like a half 
broken colt with the spirit of youth and recklessness in his 
blood. A rush down the Bridle path, the wind blowing 
in my face, my hair tumbling down my back, my heart 
keeping time with the rythm of his leaps — Oh, it was 
glorious, glorious. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Billy Barclay's here. 

MARY ANNE^Yes, I know — ^he was here before I left. 
(She gig gles)-r- A-antie — ^^he's so jealous of Dickie he can't 
see straight. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, that's quite obvious. 

MARY ANNE— I'm a little disappointed in Billy that 
he's not in uniform. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Give him a chance, he will be. 

MARY ANNE — Yes, when they make him. Dickie 
does look so wonderful in his. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 63 



MR8. KIRKLAND— You bad your French lesson this 
morning ? 

MARY ANNE— Oh, yes, indeed. Mon. Devoe says I 
am improving wonderfully. I can say "What eolor is the 
hat of my Father" so perfectly, that he can ALMOST 
understand rae. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— f^mi7in5f;— Hum ! 
MARY ANNE — Dickie can understand my French. 
Almost everything I say. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Indeed. 

MARY ANNE — (A shadow on her face) — Oh, Auntie! 
Do you suppose they will be comfortable over there in 
France? They'll have to live in tents and all that sort of 
thing, won't they? 

MRS. KIRK — I think you will find comfortable quart- 
ers have 'been provided when not on active service. There's 
little luxury there I 'm told. 

MARY ANNE — (Musingly) — It's terrible. And now 
that we're in it, so many will be going. 

;MRS. KIRKLAND — Don't forget your music lesson. 
MARY ANNE — (Brightly, not suspecting Mrs. Kirk- 
land is leading her away from the subject) — Oh, I won't 
forget that I 'm crazy about it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And the dancing. 
MARY ANNE— "Dickie's" a better teacher than Mr. 
Porter. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— "Dickie's one of the best danc- 
ers I ever saw. 

MARY A^NE— (Sadly)— There won't be many 
dances soon, with all the boys away. Henderson, Charlie 
Mason, even Teddy Farnum is going. Who knows when 
we shall ever see them again. — (Sadly) — ^^"Dickie" told me 
this morning they leave from a port somewhere in Canada. 
That's all he knows. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well cheer up now. You must 
hurry and change. All your friends are here, and Billy's 
waiting. Your time may come this afternoon who knows. 
The chance you've been waiting for so long. 
MARY ANNE— Chance? 
MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, Billy Barclay. 
MARY ANNE— Oh— Oh, yes. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You're not regretting the step 
you've taken? You've been happy here with me, haven't 
you? 



64 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MARY ANNE— Happy? Auntie, it's been wonderful. 
I'll never forget all you've done for the crude, awkward 
little country "Jay", I was. 

MRS. KlRKLAND-^Crude and awkward? Nothing 
of the kind. You were a bit dowdy in your dress, and no 
wonder, with that brainless Miss Slissy in charge. But 
you don't make as much of your beautiful hair as I should 
like. Stand off there and let me look at you. Take off 
your hat. 

MARY A^NE— (Moves as she is told)—Wmf. Like 
the mannikins do it. — (She moves gracefully about lil-r the 
girls in the hig shops when showing ojf a costume.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND^Splendid my dear, among other 
accomplishments you're a mimic. 

MARY ANNE — ( Humoroiishj ) — Note. — ^perfect poise 
and command. 

MRS. KIBKLANB— (Laughing)— Ch&rmmg. 

MARY ANNE — Look, Auntie, I'll give you an imita- 
tion of Trella Webb, buying a gown. Exhibit A. — the 
model. — (Mary Anne moves gracefully about as a Manni- 
kin displaying a gown. Mrs. Kirkland smiles.) — Exhibit 
B. — Trella. — (She alters her attitude to- one of lazy indol- . 
encc and looks at the place where she formally stood, thru' 
imaginary lorgnette. Then turns and speaks to an imagin- 
ary companion.) — Did you ever see such a mess? My dear, 
it's a "Ford" creation, with a Limousine price.— f31rs. 
Kirkland laughs and Mary Anne joins her.) — Oh, that 
girl; I don't believe I was ever half as funny to her as she 
is to me. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Not even when you wore the 
Slissy hat 

MARY ANNE— I '11 take it back Auntie, I must have 
been. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— It made me laugh that day when 
I came in and found you crying in it, in the pantry. 

MARY ANNE— I'll never forget that day, how foolish 
I was. That's the day I called Dickie your Chauffeur. — 
(Both laugh) — He looked so funny when you said, "Place 
it there, Watkins. " — (Her laughter fades) — 'Poor old Dick- 
ie, he's been so good to me, and now he's going — (She 
panses) — Auntie, I saw Sallv Merton again this morning. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Your little Salvation Army 
friend? 



THE GOLDEN AGE 65 



]iIARY ANNE — Yes. She too is leaving soon to go 
over seas. She looked so sweet -and wistful in her little uni- 
form. She made me feel, somehow — so small beside her. 
I wish I eould do something big to help. 

:VIRS. KIRKLAND— Why chdld, you are. Doing all 
lliat's expected of you. You're devoting hours to Red 
Cross work and — 

MARY— But tliat seems so little to what she is doing. 
She's devoting her whole life. She's going over there, 
to be with them, near them. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— They'll never let the Salvation 
Army into France, I'm afraid. 

MARY— She says they are going to try. If they al- 
low the others, they must allow them. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— It's mau's work. 

MARY ANNE— But aren't women needed too? 

3IRS. KIRKLAND — Of course, nurses and the like of 
that, l)ut the Salvation Army is a — is a — 

:\I ARY— What ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well, I'm blest if I know. I've 
contributed funds to it whenever they ask, but I always 
thought they worked in the slums and among the lower 
classes. 

^lARY ANNPj — Sally says they work everywhere, 
where others fear to go. They are not afraid to go into the 
blackest hole in the slums of a city to help the- fallen, they 
will not be afraid to go into the darkest trench to bring 
comfort to the dying. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, I know they've done a wor- 
thy work here, and in every large city, but I never thought 
of them as doing anything on the field of battle. 

MARY ANNE — Sally seemed very much in earnest, 
and knowing she was to be over there- with — with so many of 
the boys whom I knew — it sort of made me cry — a little. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Oh, come, come, all your friends 
aren't going, and most of those who are, will be back be- 
fore you know it.— (Dick enters R.I. He is in uniform.) 

DI'CK— Hello, haven't vou changed yet? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Oh, you bad boy, stealing her 
away like that. 

DICK — We had a great ride, didn't we Marion? 

MARY ANNE— Wonderful. 

DICK — Last chance I'll have for sometime. I can see 
myself riding in a box car in a month or two. 



66 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well, I must see how the young 
people are getting along. Don't monopolize Marion too 
long, Dickie, she must change and dance with at least one 
of the boys before they go. 

DICK — Billy Barclay's been watching like a hawk 
ever since we came back. If you see him, Auntie Kirk, 
tell him where I am. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You wretch, you're making that 
boy 's a life a burden. 

DI'CK — Well, you put me up to it. I'm trying to do 
my best. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I know I did. Well, don't keep 
her too long. — (She exits R.I.) 

MARY ANNE— Was he following you ? 

DICK — ^He was but I lost him. He thinks I went into 
the dining room. 

MARY ANNE— (Giggles)— Isn't it funny. 

DICK — He always tries to appear so innocent when he 
catches us too, so. ^'Oh, I beg your pardon I didn't know 
you were here" kind of an attiture. 

MARY ANNE— (Laughs again) — Let's wait up here 
and see if he'll find us. 

DICK— Oh, he will, trust him. 

MARY ANNE— And Elaine, too, it's kept her busy 
watching Billy. 

DICK — (Laughs) — iPoor Elaine; she little knew what 
was coming to her. 

MARY ANNE— (Wondering )— Yon don't think I'm 
wicked to do this 1 

DICK — Not at all. You were first by rights. She's 
the one who is wicked, if any. What she did was deliber- 
ately planned. 

MARY ANNE — (Apprehensively) — She might come 
up too. 

DICK— I hadn't thought of that— sh— ("He looks R. 
and wJiispers to Mary Anne) — Someone's coming up the 
stairs now, maybe it's Billy. — (They both move quickly to 
the Divan C. and sit close together, he in a very attentive 
attitude. They hold this for a moment especially posed for 
Barclay's entrance. No one enters. Dick turns his head 
slowly and looks R. then rises and looks down the stairs.) 
No, I was mistaken, it's no one. 

MARY ANNE— (With a sigh of relief )--'Phew— don't 
give me a fright like that again. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 67 

DICK — (Sitting beside her) — What was I saying? 

MARY ANNE— About Elaine,— 

DICK — Oh, yes. It will be all the better if she does 
come looking for Barclay ; I '11 leave you alone with him 
and — ^then — (A good thought strikes him) — I'll BRING 
her up. 

MARY ANNE— fA^a/'med;- Oh goodness, no! don't 
do that. 

DI'CK— Why not ? 

MARY ANNE— It— it looks so deliberate. 

DICK — Yes, she might suspect something. Sometimes 
I think she does already. We went some until I had to go 
to camp, didn't we? 

MARY A^^^— (Musingly)— IndieQdi, we did. I've 
felt sorry for you sometimes. 

DICK— Sorry for me ? Why ? 

MARY ANNE — You made yourself such a martyr to 
the cause. 

DICK — (Smiling) — Don't mind me, I like it. 

MARY ANNE — It's been theatres, dances, Country 
Club dinners, horseback rides; you've taught me to skate. 
Oh, it's been glorious, but hard on you. 

DICK — Never Jiad so much fun in all my life. 

MARY ANNE — And now you're going away. It's 
cruel — this war — spoiling all our — :Do you think you'll 
have to stay over there a long time. 

DICK — You can never tell. They may leave me 
there. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, don't say that— 

DICK — Well, you never can — (Looking R.) — Sh — -here 
he comes. Sure this time. — (They assume positions once 
more on the Divan in intimate conversation.) 

MARY ANNE— Oh, wait a minute.— (She gets up and 
runs to the mantel and gets an eukala — Hawaiian musical 
instrument — and brings it to Dick who sits with her idly 
strumming. Billy enters R.I.) 

BILLY — (Apologetically) — Oh, I beg pardon, I didn't 
know anyone was here. 

mCK~( Briskly)— Oh, hello Billy, come in. Just 
sneaked up for a cigarette. Have one 1 — (Offers a case.) 

BILLY— No, thank you. 

DICK — Marion of course doesn't smoke. 



68 THE GOLDEN AGE 

BILLY — I'm glad of that. I don't approve of it in 
women. — (He moves across to L. hack of the taMe.) — 'Pret- 
ty room this, isn't it. 

MARY ANNE— This is Auntie's den. You've been 
here before haven't you. 

BILLY — (Looks at her) — Not often. Looks comfoi-t- 
able. 

DICK— This sofa's lovely. 

BILLY— It looks it. 

DICK — Oh, it is. You must try it sometime. 

BILLY— I hope to. 

MARY ANNE— Aren't you dancing? 

BILLY — Isn't anybody to dance with. Some of the 
boys have started a bridge game. I thought maybe you'd 
like to play, Marion. 

MARY ANNE— I understand it so little. 

DICK — Why you were doing finely the last time that 
we — 

MARY ANNE — I make so many mistakes, and I never 
can remember what's trumps. 

DICK — I don't remember so many mistakes. — (To 
Billy) — I gave her lessons — ^privately. All last winter. 

MARY ANNE— But I liked to be out of doors, skating 
or riding the best. 

BILLY — (To Marij Anne) — You've been booked up 
pretty well ;all season. 

MARY ANNE— rWif/) a sigh of happiness)— l\e had 
a wonderful time. 

DICK — It certainly has been a glorious winter. 

BILLY — Colder than usual, I think. 

DICK— (Innocenthj)— Bid you find it so? I didn't. 
Did you Marion? 

MARY ANNE— No, I thought it was lovely. 

BILLY — Little too much snow to suit me. 

MARY ANNE— I love the snow.— (Suddenly to Dick) 
That snow-shoeing party — at Catskill ! 

DICK— Wasn't it wonderful? 

MARY ANNE — And the dinner at the log cabin in the 
woods, what a dinner that was. 

DICK — I ate so much I could hardly snow-shoe back. 
Do yo-u ever snow-shoe, Billy ? 

"^ BlLhY~( Slowly )—l didn't last winter. 

DICK — (Rises and puts his cigarette on the ash tray 
on the table) — Well, don't lose sight of it all together it's 



THE GOLDEN AGE 69 



great sport. If you two will excuse me, I think I'll go see 
if the others are behaving themselves properly. You'll 
excuse me Billy? 

BILLY— Oh, just a minute.— ("DicA^ stops.) 

DICK— Well?— 

BILLY— I want -to ask you a question Dick, before 
you leave the U.S.A. — a question I wouldn't ask except 
that you ARE leaving and that the answer's important to 
a fellow I know. 

MARY ANNE — Then I'll skip away and leave you 
two together. 

BIIjLY — Stay — ^^please — ^it concerns you too. 

MARY AN'N'k—( Puzzled )^Concerns mel— (Returns) 

Oh! 

BILLY — Elaine Jewet made the statement to me just 
now that all the other fellows except you, Dick, that have 
been hanging around Mary Anne have been making bally 
fools of themselves — that you're secretely engaged to her — 

MARY ANNE — (Frightfully eml)arrassed)—0\\, but 
he's not! Billy — how can you? Why, Dick and I are just 
good friends — splendid friends — Elaine shouldn't say 
things like that — it's — it's dreadful. — (Puts hands to her 
cheeks and turns away.) 

BILLY— r^o Dick)— Then— on the level— there's 
nothing between you? 

DICK — Mary Anne has just answered your question — 
hasn't she? STie's told you we are just friends — splendid 
friends. I'm glad she has spoken out — It is only fair to 
the fellow she might really care for and — and to other 
fellows to know just where she stands. I'll go hunt up 
Auntie Kirk. 

MARY ANNE— rA.5 he starts away)— Oh, Dick— in 
these last few minutes you have to remain, I don't want you 
running away — ^Please stay. 

DICK— Oh, that's all right. Don't mind me.— (^f 
fccted gayetey) — You see— we've put it across — splendidly 
— YOU know — that's the important thing — Don't mind 
me. I'll see you -again — after vou've had a little talk with 
Billy. 

MARY A^^'R— (marts to follow /u'mj^But Dick— 

BILLY — ^Mary Anne — please! — (Dick exits. - She 
turns hack.) 

MARY ANNE — Oh, how could you ask Dick a ques- 
tion like that — if-^if we were engaged — right before me — 



70 THE GOLDEN AGE 

I — I thought I'd die. Oh, what do you thiuk a girl is 
made of ? 

BILLY — What do you think a fellow's made of — that's 
what I'd like to know. I'm glad I said what I did and got 
at the truth. Better late than never ! 

MARY ANNE— The truth ? 

BILLY — Yes — ^that you've been "putting across" 
something — you two — a little game. In other words he 
was in calioots with you to wake me up — 'Coax me along — 
I've suspected what was back of 3^our great friendship 
more than once — 

MARY ANNE — I — I 've loved my friendship with Dick 
for itself — 

BILLY — iCome now — no more playing with me, Mary 
Anne. "We're down to brass tacks now. You care for me 
and he knows it. 

MARY ANNE— f Low.' voice)— I— I haven't said I 
cared — 

BILLY — Long ago, you said it, you little tease — and 
Dick said it again for you just now. You'll promise to 
marry me, won't you? I want his congratulations before 
he goes — From what he said — 

MARY ANNE— You— he— I'm dazed— ^Billy— let me 
think. 

BILLY — ^^Here's a nice little ring for you while you're 
thinking — Tiffany's latest — (She turns away) — I don't 
wish to boast, but a certain other girl I could mention 
wouldn't have to be coaxed to put it on — but you're the 
girl for me! You've played for me and got he — Here — 
(Tries to take her hand.) 

MARY ANNE— .No, not now. 

BILLY — Well, you ARE a cold one. You don't deny 
do you, that you and Dick deliberately tried to make me 
jealous — keep me on the frying pan — 

MARY ANNE— No— I don't deny— anything— but— 

BILLY — You want to play fair, don't you? 

MARY ANNE — Yes, yes, to myself — to everyone! 

BILLY — Then you're mine and I'm going to kiss 
you ! 

MARY ANNE— No, no ! 

BILLY— Yes, yes! 

MARY ANNE— Don't you dare— or Fll never speak 
to vou again ! 



THE GOLDEN AGE 71 



BILLY — Now stop fooling — (He kisses her in spite of 
protest. Mary Anne breaks away angry.) 

MARY ANNE— Oh, how dare you do that to me? How 
dare you, you've no right, you — (Trella is heard out R.I.) 

TRELLA — Oh, come on Elaine — just one. 

MARY ANNE— Trella !— Elaine I— Oh— (She starts 
for the arch L.C., hut sees she won't have time so changes 
her mind and hides hack of the curtain at the window L.I. 
Billy is looking R. and thinks Mary Anne has left the room. 
Trella enters R. folloived hy Elaine.) 

TRELLA — (To Elaine) — Come on, there's no one 
here and I must — (Sees Billy) — Oh, no, here's Billy. 

ELAINE — Oh, I wondered what had become of you. 
What are you doing here all alone. 

BILLY — I haven't been alone. Dickie Stanhope and 
Mary Anne were here but — 

ELAINE — (Spitefully) — ^But Dickie took her away 
as usual. I should think you'd be tired by this time of 
making a silly of yourself. You promised to dance with 
me and you promised to play Bridge — (He moves to R. 
She goes to him pleading) — 'Aw — 'Billy, now listen. 

BILLY — Oh, let me alone. You're always saying 
something nagging Elaine. If you can't say anything 
good, don't talk. 

ELAINE — Well, aren't you going to dance? 

BILLY — No, I'm sick and tired of this place, I'm 
going home. 

ELAINE — Billy — (He hrushes her aside — exits. She 
flounces on the divan C. Trellu lights a cigarette from her 
case with a match at the tahle C. Elaine continues.) — Oh, 
I hate him sometimes so I do. He's always doing something 
to make me look and feel so ridiculous. 

TRELLA— You don't hate him. 

ELAINE— I do. I do. And I hate myself too. 

TRELLA — Sh — ^don't talk so loud, someone might 
hear. 

ELAINE — He treats me like a fool. And it's all that 
Marion Simmonds fault. 'She tries to turn his head every 
time he comes near her. 

TRELLA — Well, if he wants to go — why don't you let 
him? 

ELAINE — Because — Because— 

TRELLA — Because your mother won't let you, is that 
it? 



72 THE GOLDEN AGE 

ELAINE — (Buries her face in the pillows sobbing) — 
Son.ietimes I wish that I were dc ad, it wouhi be lietter than 
this 

TRELLA — Your mother wants you to marry Billy 
Barclay. Must it be the Barclay money? There are plenty 
of other men who would be glad of a chance to — 

ELAINE — Yes, old Dryfuss. Or that brainless young 
Ridge way — no thank you, I'd rather take the consequences. 

TRELLA — Is it as bad with your father as they say ? 

ELAINE — Oh, Trella, it's only a questioti of days, 
mother says. The war has ruined him. I could see it com- 
ing myself, for a long, long time. First it was Father's 
worried look ; then night after night he stayed at the office 
instead of coming home; and next morning when I'd meet 
him at breakfast^he'd look — pale and haggard and worn 
out. Oh, I feel so sorry for him; and we'll have to give up 
.everything, home, society, friends, everything. 

TRELLA — I'm sorry Elaine. 

ELAINE— Mother said I could get Billy -if I tried 
hard enough. And I was willing to try because — 

TRELLA— Because you loved him a little too. 

ELAINE — And he loved me — ^he told me so. I thought 
I was going to win for Father's sake — but I'm not. I'm 
going to lose, Trella, I'm going to lose. Now that Dickie's 
going away it will be worse than ever. 

TRELLA — (Hears someone coming R.) — Sh — (Mrs. 
Kirldand enters R.) 

MRS. K IRELAND— What's this, deserted the party 
— Now Trella, dear, you're not. smoking? 

TRELLA— Oh, Mrs. Kirkland, I had to. I was dying 
for one. And I knew you would object to it down there. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Trella, I had l9. Some of the 
girls were indulging one day when the minister was an- 
nounced. 

TRELLA — His wife smokes. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Good gracious, you don't tell me. 

TRELLA — Did before they were married. Mother 
said so. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well, let's hope she's been cured. 
Has anyone seen Marion? 

TRELLA— Not I. 

ELAINE — She was here just liefore we came. 



'HE goli)p:n age T^ 



MRS KIRKLAND— In her room, I suppose. Better 
go down; they're asking for you. The boys are getting 
ready. 

TRELLA— Don't want to uiiss the Grand Finale.— 
(SIic goes R.) 

MRS. KlIi.KhAm:)—( Noticing Elaine's manner as she 
,.i^^.g) — Don't you feel well, Elaine? 

ELAINE— A slight headaehe, that's all. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'm sorry. Can 1 get you any- 
thing? 

ELAINE— No, thank you. It will pass. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Go down and help entertain the 
hovs, I '11 be there presently. 

TRELLA— Righto.— ('£:/aJ«f and TreJla exit R. Mrs. 
Kirktand moves to eloor L.C. as she passes the fireplace. 
Mary Anne parts the curtains and 3Irs. Kirldand sees her. 
Man) Anne is a picture of misery and sadness.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Why, Mary Anne, what is it? 
What in the world are you hiding for, like that? 

MARY ANNE— I couldn't help it. Auntie, I didn't 
mean to. ' It was an accident. — (Mary Anne sways a little 
— Mrs. Kirk comes to her anxiously.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Why, Marion, what's the matter? 

MARY ANNE— Dick had left me alone with Billy 
Barclay — and he— well — then I heard Elaine coming — I 
couldn't bear to see — ^^to meet— Well, before I knew what I 
was doing, I ran back of the curtains. 

MRS. KIRKLAND-^Well. of all things ! 

MARY ANNE — I wouldn't have done it for the world 
if — but I'm glad now that I did. 

. MRS. KIRKLAND — You must have heard some love- 
ly things about yourself from those two. 

MARY ANNE— I'm not thinking of that; I'm think- 
ing — Oh, Auntie, I wonder if you would do something for 
me? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Why, anything child, in reason, 
you know that. Anything possible. 

MARY ANNE— I think it's possible, and it would 
make me feel so much better. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Why, what in the world is it :' 

MARY ANNE — Elaine's father is facing some terrilile 
financial trouble; couldn't something be done to help him? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— If it hasn't gone too far. He 



74 THE GOLDEN AGE 

was on the wrong side of the copper market several months 
ago. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, Auntie, if you could only do 
something, for my sake, I'd try to make it up in other 
ways; I'll do without — without the won'derful future you 
had planned for me, without hats — and fine gowns and all — 

MRS. KIRKLAN— Good Heavens ! That girl as much 
as slapped you in the face, and yet 3^ou — 

MARY ANNE— I'm sorry "for Elaine. Sorry that I 
have been wicked and teasing her. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Sorry you have been teasing Billy 
Barclay too? 

MARY ANNE — I don 't know what 's the matter with 
me, I don't feel the same about him as I did — I don't like — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You don't feel the same about 
Billy Barclay ? 

MARY ANNE— No, he— (Dick Stanhope hursts into 
the room from R.) 

DICK — Mary Anne Simmonds. If you don't hurry 
up and change those clothes, I'll be dancing down 5th 
Avenue with a gun on my shoulder and then you'll be 
sorry — 

MARY ANNE— Oh, Good Gracious, Dickie— I'll hur- 
ry, I'll hurry — (Mary Anne hurries out L.C. anel up stairs.) 

DICK— Excuse me. Auntie Kirk, won't you, I'm a. 
verv busy man. — (He dashes off R.) 

' MRS. KIRKLAND— Good Gracious! What is all 
this. — (Patty enters R.I.) 

PATTY— What on earth is the matter with Dickie ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Excited, the time is growing so 
short. Well where did you come from? 

FATTY— (Smiling)— W&sh'mgton. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I understand your mother to say 
the family wouldn't follow for at least a month. 

PATTY — Mother never knows what we're going to do 
until I tell her. — (She moves over L.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— f(7a.sh'ngf her eyes heavenward) 
The Modern girl. 

PATTY— Any how, Washington is as lonesome as the 
Gatacombs without Marion. And Teddy was becoming 
fractious. 
, MRS. KIRKLAND— Meaning— ? 

PATTY — Jealous. Since he's donned the uniform I 
can't do a thing with him. Accused me of staying on there, 



THE GOLDEN AGE 75 

just for the fun of making "goo-goo" eyes at the Washing- 
ton celebrities. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— f La//(//( ing)— You % 1 '! 

PATTY — Remembering that there are stacks of girls 
just waiting around the corner to console a jealous soldier- 
man, I thought I'd better hurry back and interrupt the 
proceedings. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Of course, I had forgotten. Are 
you sorry he's going? 

PATTY — No, I'm proud of him. I think it's wonder- 
ful. 1 bet papa a box of candv he wouldn't go, but he is. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (Laughing )^One of the first 
too. 

PATTY — He looks two inches taller since he's going 
to war. I'm so proud of him, 1 just stand off and gasp. 1 
can't realize it's Teddy at all. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— It's in the blood my dear. His 
Grandfather was with Grant, his Great-Great Grandfather, 
a General in the war of 1812. 

PATTY— Um— How's Marion? I'm crazy to see her, 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Splendid. 

PATTY— How is the Billy Barclay affair coming 
along? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Well, she puzzles me sometimes. 
I don't see why she keeps Billy waiting— and dangling so 
long. Still I suppose she knows what she's doing. She's 
had him on the point a half dozen times, I know it. 

FATTY~(LaugJiing)—Whait fun. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I think something will be settled 
very soon. When a girl wants to do something very plea- 
sant for 'another girl, it's a prettv good sign she wants to 
soften A BLOW to that OTHER girl— You know what I 
mean. 

FATTY— (Smiling)— 1 think so. 

TEDDY FAUNVM— (Outside RJ— What Ho, What 
Ho, within. 

PATTY— There's my Teddy Bear. Come in Armv. 

TF.DDY— (Enters i^./ J— Hello, Mrs. Kirkland, I'm 
awful late but I had so much to do and — (He glares at 
Patty) — I've been hanging around the Penn. Station wait- 
ing for you for two hours. 

PATTY — Have you Teddy darling? 

TEDDY— fro Mrs. Kirkland)— What do you ihink of 
her? Going to allow a perfectly good fiancee to go to 



76 THE GOLDEN AGE 

France without the joy of pressing her to his heart For the 
last time. 

PATTY^r-Couldn't reach your heart, you're too rhick. 

TEDDY — You'll be sorry when I come back all cov- 
ered with medals. 

• PATTY— Honest, Teddy, I missed the Penn. and had 
to come ion the Reading. 

TEDDY — No wonder I waited. — (Henderson, Mason 
and TreJIa enter at B. Henelerson first.) 

HENDERSON— May we come in? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Certainly. 

MA)SON — It's a foraging party of late comers in quest 
of tea and things 'to eat. 

TEDDY— I feel like an empty ship. 

]\IRS. KIRKLAND — Why you poor boys of course you 
shall have it. — (SJie presses the button on wall up C. three 
times) — 'Come in and make yourselves comfortable, every- 
one. Where's Dick? 

HENDERSON — Smoking on the verandah when I saw 
him last. We've only a few moments left. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Then we must hurry. 

TEDDY — Where is the radiant Marion Simmonds? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— ^Changing her dress. 

HENDERSON — She needn't have changed on my 
account. I think she's stunning in that nifty little riding 
habit. 

TEDDY— Tell her to keep it on, I didn't see it. 

HENDERSON— Isn't it grand we fall in at the cor- 
ner of 85th ? 

MASON— Just a step away. 

PATTY— (Looks at her wrist wateh)— Yon have 10 
minutes yet. 

TRELLA — Why are none of the girls allowed at the 
station ? 

TEDDY — Our tender hearts cannot stand their tears. 

MASON — You can watch us depart from yonder win- 
dow. 

HENDERSON— Yes, and see that you are all there. 
The Overseas Glee Club is in charge of the music. — (Hen- 
derson takes a tuning fork from his pocket, strikes it and 
puts it to his ear, then emits a tone. Teddy, Henderson and 
Mason crowd together. In harmony, they sing a chorus of 
"Merrily we roll along, etc.) 



THE GOLDEN AGE 77 



PATTY — If we have to listen to that, I won't be 
there. 

TEDDY— Oh, we have others, that are far worse. 

MASON— Why doesn't Marion cornel— (With Teddy 
leading the three hoys, all chorus together in college yell.) 

TEDDY, MASON, HENDERSON- Why doesn't 
Marion come? We want Marion! — (Marion enters L.C. 
She is in a dainty afternoon frock.) 

MARY ANNE — Who's taking my name in vain?— 
(The hoys all crowd, ahout her.) 

(In Chorus.) 

Ah I— (Teddy-) 

I am the guilty party. — (Mason.) 

We have been wishing for you. — (Henderson.) 

We bow before you. — (Teddy.) 

MARY ANNE— r^S'ees Patty )-^Faity. 

FATTY— (Running to her.)— Marion dear, T'm so 
glad to see you. 

MARY ANNE — ^We were afraid you weren't coming. 

TEDDY — Yes, WE were. She . brings great news, 
Marion, the White House is still white. 

PATTY— I ^ot here just as soon as I eould, dear. 

MARY ANNE — I'm sorry I wasted so mueh time 
dressing. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— The boys only have a short time, 
Marion, We are going to have tea up here. — (Teddy and 
the hoys have heen maTcing hows, etc. and othenvisc trying 
to attract Mary Anne's attention.) 

TEDDY — (Still salaming) — As I have said — we bow 
before you — 

MARY ANNE— frap.9 him on the head)— Where's 
Dick? — (The hejys howl in mock rage.) 

TEDDY— That's what WE get. 

MARY ANNE— What time does the train leave? 

MASON— Six. 

MARY ANNE — (Looking at her wrist watch) — You 
leave at the corner at 5, it's 15 minutes of that now, Where's 
Dick? 

TEDDY— Why the anxiety about Dick? 

MARY ANNE— Well, I—" 

MRS. KIRKLAND— They've been such good friends 
— she has — ^a little gift for biin on leaving, tliat's all 

TEDDY— Lucky Dickie. 



78 TiHE GOLDEN APE 

PATTY — Teddy Parniim, didn't I g-ive you a wrist 
watch 'I 

TEDDY — Bless your little heart, so you did. — (SJiows 
a to the company.) — Behold. 

MASON— I got one too. 

HENDERSON— So did I. A year ago I'd have been 
afraid to wear it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Nonsense, the most useful thing 
a man can have. — (Rodgers enters R.I. with Felice and the 
tea service.) 

MASON— Ah ! 

TEDDY— The eats. 

MRS. I^YRKIjA^Y)— (Rodgers hows and exits R.I.)— 
Boys, pile those hats underneath the table. 

HENDERSON— Right. 

TEDDY— We rush. 

MASON — (Takes one out) — Dainty confection, eh, 
what ? 

PATTY— Yours, Marion? 

MAHION— (Nods)— \Jm—( Teddy takes the hat from 
Mason and puts it on his head.) 

PATTY— Teddy Farnum, take that hat off, this in- 
stant. 

TEDDY — Am I not an alluring creature? 

PATTY— Yes, you are— not.— (All laugh at this. Ted- 
dy puts the hat hack in thehox, the hoys have .stacked them 
hehind and under the tahle.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Tea is ready. Teddy, give that 
to Patty. 

T¥Ayj)Y— (Takes a cup to Patty )—Gri{cions lady. 

FATTY— (Accepts i^— Thank yon.— (As Teddy takes 
the cup to Patty, itenderson goes over with one for Mary 
Anne.) 

TEDDY — (Points to the cup in her hand where a small 
sandwich rests on the side.) — Arrow points to the sand- 
wich. 

MARY ANNE— f To nenderson)—Vm not a bit hung- 
ry, you have that. — (Dick Stanhope enters R.I.) 

DI€K — Am I missing something. 

TEDDY — You never miss anything. 

I>ICK-^(Goes L.) — I missed a dance that was coming 
to me. 

MARY ANNE— I'm sorry— it took me so long to dress. 

DIOK — I'll forgive you this time. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 79- 



MARY ANNE— I'll get you some tea. 

DICK — Tha>nks.—( Marij Anne goes over for tea and 
sandwich. Her manner full of suppressed excitement. 
Dick is with Patty at the window. Far away in the dis- 
tance a hand is heard playing. Dick looks out of the win- 
(^ou?;— It's getting close to ns.— (Outside a low murmur as 
of the crowd of hoys growing impatient. Some cheering.) 

PATTY — Jolly crowd. 

X)iCK — They won't be so jolly two days out on the 
ship. I know I won't. 

HENDERSON— I 'm ready now for anything. 

TEDDY— I've heen ready for a month. — (Mary Anne 
hrings the tea to Dick at window L. Patty joins Teddy. 
Trella is with Henderson. Mason near Mrs. Kirkland.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Dickie, you must take good care 
of all my boys. 

DICK— Trust me.— (To Mary Anne for the tea.)— 
Thank you. — (Dick sits on the arm chair. Mary Anne on 
the window seat heside him.) 

MARY ANNE— ('/S'ad%;— You haven't much time. 

DICK — Not a great deal. — (They lapse into silence. 
It is taken up on the other side.) 

TEDDY — These sandwiches are great. 

PATTY — How many have you had ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Let him have all he wants. 

PATTY— That's his usual number. 

MASON — ^We won't have this again for some moons 
you know. 

TEDDY — iSpeaking of moons; I wonder if the moon 
over there is as white and round as the one over here. 

PATTY — Yes and makes men just as silly, so you be 
careful. 

TEDDY— ^To Patty)— Don't you trust me? 

PATTY — I do. But I'm going to have the boys watch 
you just the same. 

HENDERSON— We'll see that none of those little 
dark-eyed French girls steal him Patty. — (Outside there is 
a cheer and a hum of noise, a muffled order given as though 
distant. A far away hand is heard.) 

DICK — That's it. — (The hoys move, so does everyone.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And don't forget to drop a line 
whenever you can, all of you. We shall be interested in 
every step you take. 

MASON— We will. 



80 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Where are your kits? 

TEDDY— My folks took mine to the station in tlie 
car. 

HENDERSON— Mine too. 

MASON — Me too. My mother insisted on saying 
good ])ye at the train. 

MARY ANNE — The boys are getting into line. — 
(Mason goes over to Mary Anne and shakes hands. — (Hen- 
derson says goodbye to Mrs. Kirk. Patty to Teddy.) 

PATTY — Now remember Teddy, you telegraiph nio 
from wherever that boat leaves. — (Felice and Rodgers have 
rolled the tea ^service up stage and exit R.I. Dick says 
goodhye to Trella.) 

MASON— Goodbye, Mary Anne. 

MARY ANNE — Good bye, and God speed. — (Hender- 
son goes over to Mary Anne, Mason, Patty and Teddy form 
group R.) 

HENDERSON— I want to be in on that, Mary Anne. 

MARY ANNE — I almost wish I were going with you. 

HENDERSON— I guess we all wish that to^o.— (Ted- 
dy comes over to Mary Anne, Henderson to R.) 

MARY ANNE — 'Come back all covered with medals, 
Teddy. 

TEDDY— Wait till you see me. I'll look like the hero 
of a Mexican revolution. — (They sliake hands.) 

MRS. KIRK— We'll go down with you. 

TEDDY— Coming Dick ? 

DICK — I'll be right behind you. 

HENDERSON— We'll walk on slow. 

TEDDY— Gee ! I feel funny. 

HENDERSON— So do I. 

MASON — I hope nobody cries at the station. 

TEDDY— So do I, I'm too close to it myself.— fi?.;; 
this time, Patty, Teddy, Henderson, Mason and Mrs. Kirk- 
land are out the door R., leaving Dick and Mary Anne. She 
is at the window L. Dick moves near the Divan np C.) 

OICK— Well, Mary "Anne, our little make-believe ro- 
mance has come to an end; I've got to go too. 

MARY ANNE— f*S*af/%j— Yes, I know. 

DICK— At any rate we've had great times together. 

MARY ANNE— Yes.— ^¥ar?/ Anne and Dick hoth 
pause and then start to speak Utgefher.) — Well I — 

DICK— Do you think— (Together.) 

p]xcuse me — you were saying — 



THE GOLDEN AGE 81 



J^ARY ANNE— No, I— I interrupted you— didn't I— 

DICK— No. Of course I'd like— (Pauses, choking 
awJiwardhj.) 

MARY ANNE— There's so much one wants to say. 

DICK— Isn't there. 

MARY ANNE— Yes. 

BOTH — (Sim nJtaneousJy) — So much. 

MARY ANNE— So MUCH— one can't think of— of 
anything. 

DICK — Bui the bully good times we've had', Mary 
Anne. 

MARY ANNE — And how kind you've been. 

DICK — No, how kind — how — how kind you've been. 

MARY ANNE — You'll take' good care care of your- 
self f 

DICK— Yes— oh sure! T\m\\\LS.—(Pause)—l can't 
realize I'm really going to war, can you? 

MARY ANNE— No, I can't realize \i.— (Pause. Mary 
Anne is turning away a little. Dick comes near her.) 

DICK— Of what are you thinking? 

MARY ANNE— Of that war— 

DICK— Oh, I'll be all right. 

MARY ANNE — But it's real — there are no dreams — 
no fancies. The danger is real — hideous. — (She pauses) — 
We've been such good friends — I shall be thinking of you 
over there. 

DICK — (Earnestly) — And I shall be thinking of you, 
Mary Anne. 

'tEDBY— (Outside E.)— You've got just three min- 
utes, Dickie. 

DICK— I'm condng. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, wait— they mustn't go till I've 
given you your presents. 

DICK— 'For me 1— (She runs to the small tahle L. of 
the fire place and brings down the boxes unwrapped. They 
sit on the Divan C.) 

MARY ANNE— A sweater, see? I made it mvself. 

DICK— Oh, that's great. 

MARY ANNE— And the muffler— and mittens. I 
hope the trunks are large enough. — (Hands each separate- 
kj-) 

DICK— Oh, sure. 

:\IARY A}^NE~( Disclosing the big surprise)— And 
here, a little kit bag and medicine chest combined. See 



82 THE GOLDEN AGE 

there, needle and thread. A pair of scissors. Thiags to 
shave with. — (Points to bottles) — That's quinine, this is 
flaxseed — for poultices, you know. And put in your eye 
if you get anything in it. This is Peroxide, Antiseptic. 
Isn't it complete? 

DICK — This is great. You did all this for nie? 

MARY ANNE— Of course. I tried to think of every- 
thing. 

DICK — (SoftJy) — There's only one thing you forgot! 
Something I would like above all these. 

MARY ANNE— What ? 

DICK — Your picture — This wouldn't be complete 
without a picture of you. 

MARY A^"^^— (Flustered)— A picture of me? Good 
gracious. Really? — (She looks about helplessly. She sees 
an ivory miniature of herself on the mantel up G. She gets 
it.) — iHere, you may have this one. It belongs to Auntie, 
but she won't mind. 

DICK — (Looks at it tenderly) — Thank you Mary 
Anne, I — I shall keep it with me for good luck. — (He puts 
it in his breast pocket, she gathers the. things together and 
ties them quickly. Dick rises) — We won't say goodbye — 
just Au Revoir. — (Mary Anne rises and hands him the 
package.) 

MARY A^^^— (Trying to ^-mi/e;— Yes— just Au 
Revoir — (She puts her hand in his. A nearer hand begins 
"Over There." There are cheers.) 

TEDDY— ('Oi/isiV/e;— Come on T>\ck.—(Dick looks at 
Mary Anne. He resists a desire to crush her in his arms 
and bends over and kisses her hand instead, turns and exits 
out of the door B. quickly, taking his presents with him. 
Mary Anne stands dazed looking at her hand which he has 
kissed. The sound of the music becomes louder, the parade 
is Hearing the corner. Outside R., Mrs. Kirkland is heard 
as Dick passes her.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Au Revoir, Dickie boy, better 
hurry, you'll be court martialled. — (Mary Anne turns and 
at the window L. Patty and Mrs. Kirkland enter B. Mrs. 
Kirkland speaks to Mary Anne as she passes to the window 
L.) — Come dear, we can see them from here. 

PATTY — (Puts her arm about Mary Anne and takes 
her to -L.;— Isn't it wonderful?— ("'' Over There" is now 
quite Forte, a strong stirring march tempo, as the Trio 
stand at the window.) 



thp: golden age n^ 

MRS. KIUKLAND— (Excitedly)— There's Hender- 
son. He's waving his hand at us. — (Tiie trio wave their 
handkerchief in return.) 

PATTY— (After a pause. Excitedly.)— There's Ted- 
dy. There's Teddy. — (They wave their handkerchiefs 
frantically. Then Patty wipes a tear from her eye-) 

MARY ANNE — (Suddenly excited.) — There goes — 
(She pauses) — There goes — (She m-oves a little C.) — Dick! 
Oh, my God! — (Mary Anne falls C. in front of the Divan. 
Mrs. Kirkland turns and sees her, goes to her cjuickly.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Marion.— fLooAi- out of window, 
then back to Mary Anne, then the meaning of it all comes 
over her — she utters one word.) — Dick! — (Patty is still 
waving at the window — the music is Forte.) 

CURTAIN. 



84 THE GOLDEN AGE 



ACT IV. 

SCENE— Same as Act I. June, 1919. 

At rise Betsy is standing at the window B.C. looking 
out R. She has a rag in her hand and a pail of tvatep 
stands on the floor. Miss Slissy enters the door L.2. She 
has her sewing hag on her arm with materials, etc. 

MISS SLISSY— Where's Miz Simmonds? 

BETSY— Out to the hen house I think. 

MISS SLISSY — I came to finish that new waist 1 'in 
making for her. Do you know what she done with the 
pattern? 

BETY — It's on the sewing maeliine in her room up- 
stairs. 

MLSS SLISSY— What you lookin' at? 

BFjTSY— (Staring out R. at the ivindow )—l^ntinn\ 

MISS SLISSY — (Goes up to the window L.C. and 
looks out R.) — Humph! Henry 'd be flattered if he could 
hear that. — (She comes down) — Mary Anne's expected 
home today, ain't she? 

BETSY— Yep. 

MISS SLISSY— Toll Operator stopped in a moment 
(Ml her way from lunch and she said tliat Mr;^. Kirkhmd 
had a long distance call from New York sayin' Mai-y 
Anne was on her way down here by automobile. Her ship 
got in from Prance early this morning. 

BWrSY~( Nodding )—immh. 

MISS SLISSY — It's about time she was comin' home. 
She ain't writ her mother very often since she's been 
away. Tlie Rural Delivery was tellin' me only yesterday, 
that he's only brought her Ma seven letters from France 
in a year and a half, and three of 'em were censored. 

BETSY— She had eight. 

MISS SLISSY— Well one more or less don't make 
much difference. Of course I ain't sayin' it wasn't patri- 
otic of her to go over with that '^alarmy unit and help 
nurse, but I do think she ought to have writ her Ma oftener 
and given her more news. 

BETSY— She ain't nursin'. 

MI'SS SLISSY— Wbat's she doin' then? 

BETSY — She's in a Canteen or somethin', 

MISS SLISSY— Well, it's all the same thing. One 
gives 'em medicine to make 'em well and the others gives 
'em chocolates to make 'em sick again. It's funny her 



THE GOLDEN AGE 85 

goin' with that Salarmy unit. I can't find anybody who 
ever heard 'of it. What's the matter with you Betsy you're 
lookin' kinda droopy lately? 

BETSY — I dunno, I guess it's because I'm sleepy. I 
had to sit up till half past nine last night waiting for Mrs. 
Kirkland to get here. 

MIS'S SLISSY — Yes, there's nothin' like losing sleep 
to cause a girl to fade. You'd better be careful cause 
you're the kind that fade early. 

BETSY— What are the kind that don't? 

MISS SLISSY— Well, take me for instance. I look 
just the same now as I did ten years ago. 

BETSY — I didn't see you ten years ago. 

MISS SLISSY— Of course you didn't but I do just 
the same. Where did you say Miz Simmonds left the pat- 
tern. 

BETSY — On the sewing machine. 

MISS SLISSY— Well, I'd better get started if I ex- 
pect to get anywhere. — (She goes to door R.) — ^Tho' I must 
say it ain't the kind of sewin' I prefer. — (Miss Slissy ex- 
its R. Betsy looks out of the window and smiles and, nods 
to someone, and coyly wipes the window ledge with the rag. 
Mrs. Simmonds enters L. The door stands open, set hack 
ivith a stone.) 

MRS. SIMMONDiS— I do nothing but drive that 
spreckled rooster out of the geranium bed. There he was 
struttin' through it for the seventh time today. I made 
a grab for his tail and scared him as bad as if I had pulled 
some of the feathers out. — (Loks at Betsy.) — Mary Anne 
hasn't telephoned again, has she? 

BETSY— No 'm. 

MRS. SIMMONDS-^She ought to be here by now, I 
declare I'm getting so nervous I can hardly keep still a 
minute. 

BETSY— Miss Slissy 's upstairs. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— What did she want? 

BETSY— That new waist she's makin'. 

MRS. iSIMMONDS— Oh. If she could only make it 
without bavin' to try it on me so much. I'd be thankful. 
She nearlv talks me to death when she gets me standin' so 
I'll listen. 

BETSY — I suppose she wants to be here when Mary 
Anne comes. 



86 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. SIMMONDS— There's no supposin' almut that. 
I wonder how she found it out. 

BETSY— Telephone operator told her. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land ! Little chance to have any 
secrets in this town. Wipe 'off that ohair Betsy, sister 
Mariah will be down in a minute and if she noticed there 
was a speck of dust on anything it would give me nervous 
prostration. — (Betsy jabs at a chair standing R. corner, 
misses it and hits the whatnot.) — The chair I said, child. 
What does possess you to fuss around that window. You'd 
think there was a cii^cus parade or something. 

BETSY— The hired man— 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Oh, Goodness, about every so 
often you have these mooning spells. Is it the hired man 
again ? 

BETSY— Yes 'urn. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— What's he doin' that you can't 
even turn vour head this way when I'm talkin' to you? 

BETSY— Smilin'. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Urn— stopped work to show his 
teeth T s'pose. 'He's got just about enough brains to keep 
that speckled rooster from fallin' off the fence and no 
more. Will you wipe off that chair or won't you? 

BETSY — Yessum. — (tike wipes the chair kneeling hut 
manages to keep an eye out of the window.) — A speckled 
rooster ain't so bad, scratchin' around makin' a livin' for 
a family. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Sometimes Betsy, you say things 
so idiotic that they almost sound sensible. — (Betsy contin- 
ues riihhing, Mrs. Simmoncls ivatches her.) — Do you realize 
tliat you keep rubbin' just ONE leg of that chair as if it 
was all the poor thing had. 

BETSY — (Pulls the chair to her and rubs the top part 
and the seat.) — I'm absent minded in the spring of the 
vear. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— 'Taint only in the spring, child. 
Tho' I do notice that you're slacker than usual in the last 
few days. What's the reason? 

BETSY — (Drawls, staring out to R.) — I dunno. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I think you're lookin' at it now, 
and I don't intend to stand any more of it. — (She moves to 
tvindow L.C. and calls ojf i^ J— Henry ! Stop the hoen' 
and go out to the barn and clean off the horses till I tell 
you to stop. An' if the horses is cleaned off already, clean 



THE GOLDEN AGE 87 

off the cows. Do somethin' to take you out of sight of this 
house. 

VOICE— rO# L.;— Yes'm. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— f To Betsij)—l^o\v mebhe yon can 
tend to your work. 

BETSY — Yes sum. — (She ruhs again. Then pauses 
tJt inking.) — ^Mrs. Siinmonds, if it was the spring of the 
year and you was a single girl, and you had loved the hired 
man for three years and he had loved you, and wouldn't 
ask you ; what would you do ? 

MRS. SIMMOND'S— That liired man loved you for 
three years ? 

BETSY — Yes'm and he's too bashful to poip. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Then I'd take him by the ear 
and souse his head in the rain water barrel until he did. — 
(Betsy stops and stares at her) — 'For the land's sakes, 
don't look at me as if you was thinkin' that over. You've 
got no more sense of humor than — (Mrs. Kirkland enters 
R. 2.^— That's enough Betsy, take the scrubbin things out- 
side. — (Betsy picks up the pail and exits R. 2. Mrs. Kirk- 
land moves to R.C. and sits in the arm chair.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— No sign of Mary Anne yet ? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Not a thing, and she ought to 
have been here at least a 'half hour ago. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— We must allow a reasonable time 
for stops — ^^gasoline — a tire sometimes. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land! How I have missed that 
child. I'll never let her go away from me so long again, 
war or no war. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Mary Anne deserves great credit 
for what she's done, and some day I'm going to ask her 
pardon for speaking disrespectfully of the company she 
went over with. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Do you know, Amanda, that's 
one of the tliin'gs I am dying to find out. I've read of 
most every kind of service over there in France and I've 
never yet met a person except yon who ever heard of the 
Salarmv Unit. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— The what 1 

MRS. SIMMONDS— The Salarmy unit. That's what 
you wrote mo she went with. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— The Salvation Armv. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land sakes, is that it 1 



88 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Of course, I thoug^it you under- 
stood. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well, you wrote just Sal Army 
and I thought it was one word. She's written me about 
Sal so much and I thougJit all the time it was the name of 
some girl chum or something. Well, of all things, how'd 
she come to go with them ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Did she ever mention Billy Bar- 
clay to you after she came home. 
^ MRS. iSIMM'ONDS— Only once. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What did she say? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Nothing, except that lu''d asked 
her and she'd refused him. I can't understand that child, 
she don't know her own mind. Carried on for months to 
get him to ask her, then when she can have him, don't 
want him. 

MRS. KmKhAND— (Slowly)— And did Mary Anne 
never hint that someone else had come into her life instead? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Never! Mv land, was that it? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, and I felt it was all my 
fault — ^having thrown them together in every possil)le way 
— beginning with that folish game I put them up to play- 
ing. Yes, it was Dick Stanhope — 'but not until the day he 
marched away with his regiment and Marion went to 
pieces, did I realize it was he she had cared for all along. 

MRS. SIMxMONDS— I noticed she seemed sort of 
dreamy when she came home on that visit, but she never 
told me a word about a sweetheart. She talked of nothing 
])ut the war. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Because Dick was in it—more 
than for any other reason. Why, when he was reported 
wounded and among the missing — she cried for days — un- 
til it came out they'd got the wrong name. And even then 
I thought the child would die — she missed him so. Then the 
Merton girl came along. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— The Merton girl ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Of the Salvation Army forces. 
She was just about to go overseas and Mary Anne thought 
the quickest and best way she could ge there herself was 
to go with her. It couldn't be arranged right at once, 
however, but one day Marion received a letter from Lon- 
don. If she could manage to join here there she could ar- 
range for her to go to Prance with the Salvation Army. 
Marion jumped at the chance. Of course there was no use 



THE GOLDKN AGE 8!) 

arguing, the girl was broken-hearted, I wired you and then 
arranged transportation. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— The Salvation Army. Well, I 
declare. 

MRS. KIRKL AND— They've done wonderful work. 

:\IRS. SIMMONIOS— Yes, I've read about the dough- 
nuts they made for the boys. Well, if I do say it myself, 
if Mary Anne made doughnuts for those boys like the kind 
she used to make at home, no wonder they talked about 
'em in the papers. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Amanda, no doubt it was the 
very same receipt and I expect Marion furnished it. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— What about this Dick Stanhope. 
Did she ever see him over there? She's never written me 
a Miing about it. Letters have been scarce, goodness knows, 
and if it hadn't been that I knew the war was over last 
November and she was no longer in danger of bein' killed, 
I couldn't have stood it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — After she arrived in France she 
learned that he had only been wounded and was out of the 
hospital. Of course she was overj'oyed — then she wrote me 
another time that s>he had heard from him, but after that 
not a single word— (31 iss Slissjj enters R. 2nd noiselessly. 
Mrs. Kirklancl warns Mrs. Simmonels.) — Sh — (It is ap- 
peirent from Miss Slissy's attitude that she has been trying 
fo listen at the door but has been unsuecessful.) 

MISS SLISSY— Talkin' about Mary Anne? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— No, we wasn't, Sairy Applegate 
Slissy. we were talking about Betsy and the hired man. 

MIS'S SLISSY— Goodness knows, I'll be glad to see 
Mary Anne when she gets here. I s'pose she'll have a 
wonderful lot of tales to tell. — (To Mrs. Simmonds) — Do 
you mind seein' if this waist is the right width across the 
back? 

MRS. SIMMONDS- 1 reckon not, tho' you measured 
me twice yeiiXerd-Ay~( M iss Slissy moves over to Mrs. Sim- 
monds who rises and turns to her-) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Do you wear those felt slippers 
for comfort. Miss Slissy or merely for the pleasure of 
slipping in unobserved ? 

MISS i^hm^Y~(Putterinej with the waist)— Well, I 
always was too kind-hearted and considerate to interrupt 
folks when they're tellin' anything interestin' and confi- 



90 THE GOLDEN AGE 

dential. Gracious me, Mrs. Simmoiids, I believe you grow 
l)roader 'throug'h the shoulders right along. I 'm afraid I '11 
have to set a piece in. — (Pins the waist to Mrs. Simmonds 
as slie measures.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Oueh ! You needn't puncture 
my spine. I need it. 

MISS SLIS'SY— Excuse me.— r^o Mrs. Kirkland)— 
I'm so used to stickin' myself I think other folks don't 
mind it. — (Continues her work.) — I hope Mary Anne's 
goin' to France wasn't on account of some serious set back. 

MRS. KIRKL AND— Nothing that need worry the vil- 
lage, Miss Slissy. 

MISS SLISSY-^Please stand still Miz Simmonds, I 
almost stuck you again. Of course personally I always 
thought it was on account of Billy Barclay, him being en- 
gaged now to be married to that Elaine Jewett ; there are 
folks as have been unkind enough to say so. But then I 
don't think we ought to believe all we hear, do you? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Not always. Some say that you 
have an unfortunate habit of interesting yourself in aflfairs 
which don't concern you but then I wouldn't believe it for 
the world without proof. 

MISS SLISSY— Now that's right. I'm glad to hear 
you say it. I s'pose you heard that Elaine. Jewett 's pa 
came near losing all his money winter before last. 

MRiS. KmKhA^D— (Ignoring her)— I like the way 
vou laid out those nasturtium beds this summer, Amanda. 

MISS SLTSSY— Sometimes I wish I lived in New 
York, where you can get the news first hand. Some say 
tliat Billy Barclay's money helped Old Man Jewett to start 
up again. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— The lilacs ought to be out in a 
week, don't you think? — (Betsy enters from L. over the 
porch: site is wet and excited.) 

^BET^Y— (Breathlessly )— It's all right, Mis Sim- 
monds, it's all right. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— What's all right? 

BETSY— The hired man says he'll marry me, but I 
liad to duck liim in the rain-water barrel twice before he'd 
pi-'omise. — (Wrings the water out of her sleeve. Mrs. Kirk- 
Ja}id lauglts.) 

MRS. ^IMUONDB— (Horrified)— For the _ land's 
sakes, she did it. She actually went and did it, just be- 



THE GOLDEN AGE 01 

cause I told her to! She ain't got any more sense of humor 
than a motherin' duek tryin' to teach a two day old chicken 
to swim. 

BETSY— He kicked somethin' awful, but I held him. 
Don't you reckon I'd ought to have a new dress to get 
married in? 

MISS Shl^^Y— (Folding up Mhs. Simmonds waist) 
If yon 're askin' my opinion, I do. Time was when I 
wouldn't sew for hired girls, but work is slack just now, 
and trooso's is my specialty. 

BETSY — Thursday is my afternoon off, if you want 
to fit me then? 

SIMMONDS-^Betsy, if you'll take Miss Slissy to your 
room to ifinish bastin' my waist, you can have the rest of her 
time for the afternoon or until she's ready to go. 

MISS SLISSY— Dear me, Mis' Simmonds, that cer- 
tainly does prove you're kind-hearted, in spite oif most 
everybody say in' you're growin' cranky in your old age. 

BETSY — ^^Come on. Miss Slissy, I'm goin' to plan a 
^wedding dress, a goin '-away dress and a stay-at-home 
dress. An' mebbe a silk nightgown, that's all crawly ^\''hen 
vou put it on. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'll furnish that, Betsy. Come 
up to my room after supper, there are several things you 
may have. 

" BETSY— Oh. thank you, Mis' Kirkland.— fy'o Miss 
Slissy.) — An' you can make a necktie as my weddin' pre- 
sent to the hired man. 

[ MISS SLISSY— ^Betsv, where is that rain-water bar- 
rel? 

BETSY— Back of the house. Wliy ? 

MISS SLISSY— It's not a bad idea, I want you to 
show me liow you done it. 

BP]TSY — What do you Want to know for? 

MISS SLISSY— Well, the Rural Delivery has been 
hanging fire for— is it a little barrel or a big one']— (Theu 
r.rif off R. 2.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I do believe that woman had her 
ear to the keyhole listening to everything we've said. — (A 
motor horn is heard out L.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— There's a motor now. 

.AIRS. KIRKLAND-^Perhaps it's Marion.— r77^r/y 
rush to the door L.) 



92 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. SIMMONDS— They've stopped at the gate. 

MRS. KIRKLAXD— There's Patty and Teddy Far- 
uum, Billy Barclay and Elaine — Trella and Jack Hender- 
son, but I don't see Marion. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— What's Billy Barclay coming 
here for? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I hope nothing's happened.— 
(She exits out the door. Mrs. Simmonds stands in the dor. 
There ■are confused sounds of greeting outside L. Then 
Mrs. Kirkland enters with Patty, Elaine and TnUa.) — ■ 
What on earth is it all about ? 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Where's my Mary Anne? 

PATTY— She's a mile or two behind us. Charley 
Mason is bringing her in his car. She doesn't know we're 
coming. We took a short cut and speeded up so as to get 
here ahead and give her a surprise. — (Teddy, Billy and 
Henderson enter L.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Well of all things. 

BILLY— Hello, Mrs. Simmonds. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— How do you do. Billy, I haven't 
seen you in a long time. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— This is Miss Jewett and Miss 
Webb, Amanda. — (Introducing Elaine.) — This is my sis- 
ter, Mrs. Simmonds. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I'm pleased to meet you. 

ELAINE— Thank you. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And Mr. FARNUM and Mr. 
Henderson. 

TEDDY— Delighted Mrs. Simmonds. Hope you'll for- 
give this little surprise party but we couldn't resist the 
temptation. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— How does Marion look? 

PATTY— I haven't seen her but Jack and Trella have. 

HENDERSON— She's a dream in that Khaki uniform. 

:\IRS. SIMMONDS— She ain't wearin' a poke bonnet, 
is she ? 

TRELLA — Not a bit. The cutest little overseas cap 
you ever saw. 

BILLY— She just landed early this morning, we fixed 
it witli Mason to bring her down and the rest of us would 
come on ahead and surprise 'her. 



THE GOLDEN AGE 93 

MRS. SIMMONDS— She'll be awfully surprised, but 
goodness me I haven't got a thing in the house fit to eat 
for a surprise, except a — 

HENDERSON— Don't worry about that Mrs. Sim- 
ra'onds. Marion will be here in a little while. You let the 
girls hide in the kitchen. We'll run the car in behind the 
barn, then when Marion 's in tbe house we '11 sneak down to 
the village and get a couple of gallons of ice cream and 
some cake, just enougli for sociability's sake, that's all the 
party will want. We'd better hurry if we want to get that 
car out of sight. 

TEDDY — All right, excuse us Mrs. Simmonds. — (They 
exit L. 2. Billy, Ted and Henderson.) 

MRS. KmK—(To Elaine)— '^0 you and Billy are en- 
gaged. 

ELAINE— Oh, yes. Have been for nearly a year. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I'm delighted. Has anyone seen 
or heard anything of Dick? 

FATTY~(Hesitates)—Oh, yes, Dick's in New York, 
been here for four days. 

MRS. KIRK— Have you seen him ? 
PATTY — Yes — we saw iiini — for just a few moments — 
MRS. KIRK— Did he— (A Jiorn is heard in the dis- 
tance.) 

PATTY— There's Marion now, that's Charley's car, I 
know 'the horn. The boys will just about make it. 

MRS. SIMM'ONDS-^Good, gracious, I'm so excited, I 
don't know if I'm standin' on my head or my heels, come 
on girls if you want to hide. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Don't eome till I give the signal. 

TRELLA — Don't give the signal till the boys get 
back. — (The whirr of motor is heard L.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— You can stay in the dining room 
there. 

PATTY— We'll go into the kitchen, then we can watoli 
for the boys out the back way. 

ELAINE— fro Mrs. Kirk)— Don't vou let on now 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Not a word.— fT//e girls exit R. 
Mrs. Simmonds rusehes to door L. and out on the porch 
Mrs. Kirkland stands C.) 

MARY AnNE— (Outside)— Oh, Mumsey— Mumsey— 

MRS. SIMMONDS— rO^i.s'iVZe;— My little chicadee— 



W THE GOLDEN AGE 



my little lambkins. — (Tlieij enter L. Marion is in the Khaki 
iniiform of the Salvation Army.) 

MARY ANNE— Auntie!— fAS'Af runs to her.) 
MRS. KIRKLAND— Well you poor dear little darling. 
It seems like you have been gone for years and years. 

MARY ANNE— Two years Aunty— two wonderful- 
terrible years. An experience I wouldn't have missed for 
anything in the world — 'that 1 hope never happens in the 
world again. — (She goes to her mother.) — You dear old 
Mumsey, I could almost eat you alive. — (Mrs. Simmonds 
begins to erg.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Mary Anne how eould you go 
away and leave your mother all this time? 

MARY A^^Y^— (Consoling her.)— Now, Mumsey, 1 
know you wished me to be where willing hands and hearts 
were needed most. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— But, if anything had happened 
to you — 

MARY ANNE— (Smiling)— DRiigerl— I felt so little 
compared to the Great Big Work going on around me. I 
just knew a bullet or a piece of shrapnel would have hard 
work to find me, why the helmets of some of the lassies were 
all dented witb hits. Mine has only a little, ploughed 
scrateb from a bullet — wait till it gets here, 111 show you. 

SIMMONDS— Child, you were near the bullets? 

MARY ANNE — ^iSometinies I was — ^but it was mostly 
the ones older than I wlio Vere the luckiest and got the 
chances to serve the most. I 've iseen them do some wonder- 
ful things Mumsey, and make some great sacrifices. The 
watclTword of the ^Salvation Army was, no task too hard, 
no duty too unpleasant, no hours too long. They were 
not afraid of storms or cold, hunger or darkness — ^fire- or 
blood. They went nearer to the front than any others in 
the war zone. They cooked sometimes within one half 
mile of the firing line, standing in mud up to our ankles. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— rW^/.*/;— You- were there, Mary 
Anne. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, it wonderful. Mumsey. Wonder 
f ul ! If we were in danger and suffering, think what the 
boys had to endure, and we were helping them. Once — 
with four other girls I passed one entire night in a half- 



THE GOLDEN AGE 95 

flooded cellar, our gas masks adjusted — lit was a terril)le 
night, I thought it would never end. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— And you didn't catoh a cold? 

MARY ANNE — Not a bit. In the morning we were 
out in a tent again, the Bosche having blown our hut to 
atoms. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I can scarcely believe it's my 
Mary Anne talking. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, but it is Mumsey. It is and I'm 
safe and home with you again. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Thank God. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— We've been so proud of you. 

MARY ANNE— Not of me, Auntie, I really did so 
very lit'tle. I saw the others doing so much and all I could 
do was ti'y and help them a lit'tle. None of the really great 
things happened to me. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— You just say that. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, but it's true, Mumsie, and such 
heart l)reaking things happened sometimes. — I saw one 
little girl crouched on the ground beside a wounded soldier, 
his 'head in her lap. He was GOING WEST and she knew 
i't. She told me afterwards, it was her own brot'her and 
she hadn't even known he was in Prance till she found him 
— there. 

MRS. KIRKDAND— The pity of it all. 

MARY ANNE— (Brightening)— 1 was too small they 
said to bear many of the heavier burdens except when ne- 
cessity compelled. I spent much of my time at tlie sewing 
machine — mending s'hirts and patching pants — 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Mary Anne ! 

MARY ANNE— Oh, I did, Mumsey, great big patches, 
sometimes within the reach of the poison gas and the 
booming thunder of the guns. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And we used to make fun of the 
Salvation Army. It always has been a wonderful institu- 
tion but the world has just awakened to the fact. 

MARY ANNE — The world in which we live, Auntie, 
but the world of the poor and unfortunate have known its 
greatness for many years. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— You're right, child. I'm sure of 
it. 



96 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MARY ANNE— Mumsey, I'm hungry. May I have 
some bread and jam? 'Good graeious, I've forgotten all 
about lOharley Mason, he drove me here and — 

MRS. KIRKL AND— He'll be in soon. I saw him 
driving around into the yard as you came in the house. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— rLooA;s at Mrs. Kirkland )—Vll 
get you a islice of bread and preserves. I just opened a 
jar of quince this morning. You talk to your Aunt, I'll 
])ring it to you. Bless your little heart, but it's good to 
have you home again. — (Mrs. Simnionds emhraces Mary 
Anne and exits R. 2.) 

MARY ANNE — Well, Auntie, how is everybody and 
everj'thing. I've talked so muc'h about myself, I've given 
you no chance at all. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — ^The world is normal once more. 
Teddy Farnum and Jack Henderson have been home a 
long time and mustered out of service. 

MARY ANNE — Yes, Charley told me. He came back 
with them. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Teddy and Patty are married. 

MARY ANNE — ^Bless their hearts — I'm dying to see 
them. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Trella Webb and Lloyd Hender- 
son are engaged to be married and so are Billy Barclay 
and Elaine Jewett. 

MARY ANNE— Yes, I knew that. And I'm so glad. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— All your old friends have beei; 
'accounted for but — Dick. — (She pauses.) — He has been 
back in New York four days — You wrote me you had heard 
of him or from 'him once. 

MARY ANNE— (Sadly )--Yes I heard from Dick 
once. I received a letter when I was near Chateau Thierry. 
Auntie, that letter almost killed me. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Why, child ! What could he say— 

MARY ANNE — I loved Dick and no matter what he 
thought of me, I couldn't live knowing that he was in 
danger and I not near to help him. I didn't know if he 
wanted me — I didn't care, I had to go, something made 
me. I was in France a long time before I had news of 
him. I had heard he was wounded and dead, but I 
wouldn't believe, I watched and waited and searched — 
questioned everyone I met until some thought I was mad — 



THE GOLDEN AGE !»7 

a little. I always had a fear that perhaps I should find 
him as that little girl had found her brother. I pictured 
myself holding him in my arms and whispering words of 
comfort to him — even — love. Sometimes again, I would 
imagine our meeting on a dusty road, and I would cry 
out, Vive r America — ^and he not knowing who I was, 
would come over and speak to me in the kind Prenoli we 
used to practice, when we rode together in the park, then 
I would turn and laugh and say — don't you know me — 
It's Mary Anne — (Sadly) — We never met. Auntie — But I 
did receive a letter. If it hadn't been that my life just then 
was filled so much with the suffering of others, I don't be- 
lieve I could have endured the humiliation of that letter. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Wihy child. W'hat did he say? 

MARY ANNE — He wrote that he had learned of my 
presence in Prance, and thought he understood the reason. 
That by accident he discovered I was near Chateau Thier- 
ry and he was then in hospital some twenty-five miles 
ilistant. He was sorry our little game had turned out so 
unfortunately for me. He said he knew I had quarrelled 
wit>h Billy and refused him and feared that he had been 
the cause of it. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Marion ! 

MARY ANNE — 1 never answered the letter. The next 
day we moved on twenty miles or more and I never heard 
of him again. Here is the letter, I don't know why I've 
never burned it. — (She takes a well worn letter from her 
locket <and gives it to her aunt.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— ^Opens the letter and reads it 
aloud, yet in tone to herself.) — ^I learned that you and Billy 
have split for good, after all, and I am afraid I have de- 
liberately .been the cause of it. Not having heard from 
you, I presume there is nothing I can do to square it with 
Billy, or to restore myself your esteem. I'm sorry, deeply 
sorry, and ashamed, I'm sorry I acted as I did. — (To Mary 
Anne.) — Well that's a funny letter. 

MARY ANNE — It isn't strange if you consider the 
circumstances. Everyone thinks I refused Billy, hoping 
Dick would ask me. But I'm not going to blubber, don't 
think it. To anyone who has been in the thick of that 
great war, private griefs seem unworthy of consideration. 
There are so many things to do for others, so much to live 
for outside of self. 



98 THE GOLDEN AGE 

MRS. KIRKLAND— ^But my deam, Auntie don't 
want to see yon go through life alone. You were made to 
be loved and cuddled — 

MARY ANNE — No, I was made to hand out doughnuts 
to the boys. I did it, I'm proud of it. And there it all 
ends. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Do you mind if I keep this letter? 
1 want to study it. It's puzzling. 

MARY ANNE — Keep it Auntie, I never want to see 
it again. — (Mrs. Kirkland gets up and goes to the door R. 
Mary Anne turns to the window L.C. her tac'k to R. and 
talks to the bird in, a cage.) — Hello little birdikins! Are 
you going to sing for Mary Anne. — (Mrs. Kirkland motions 
out R.) — Are you glad to have Mary Anne back home with 
you agaiin? I wonder what's keeping Mumsey with the — 
(In the meantime the crowd have started in. They begin 
to sing. Teddy is at their head hearing a floral piece made 
in the shape of a doughnut and hearing the enihlem of the 
8. A. worked in roses. All are in single file hand on each 
other's shoulder. They march in a circle around Mary Anne 
who is now C. They are followed by Mrs. Simmonds, Mrs. 
Kirkland, Betsy and Miss Slissy who stand up stage-) 

THE SONG. 

We're looking for a shell 

We're looking for a shell 

We don't care, 

If it's round or square. 

Or if it hits the parapet or bursts up in the air. 

We're looking for a shell 

Please listen to our song. 

It will send us back to bliglity, 

Where the nurses fix our nighty, 

When the right shell — Whee — 

Comes along. 

(At the end of the song they break into a yell and 
crowd around Mary Anne. As they sing she stands looking 
from one to another in amazement uttering little "Oh's" 
and ejaculations of astonishment, when the yell and break 
comes, she clasps Patty in her arms on one side and the 
others crowd about her.) 

MARY ANNE— Oh !— Oh !— Patty !— Billy !— Elaine ! 
— Teddy ! — (Then comes the yell and the rush to her.) 



THE GOLDEN AGE iM) 

CHORUS — Welcome, Marion, Welcome home again, 
etc. 

MARY ANNE— Oh, you di-nv. ^.-ar, sweet friends 
every one of you. 

TEDDY — (Bearing the floral offering)— AWow me on 
be'half of these few members Oif the old dancing class and 
others — to present the little doughnut girl with a floral 
doughnut, in appreeiation and in memory of the many 
doughnuts we have received at your hands and those of 
your lovely sisters in France. Said doughnuts coming as 
they did at a time when we did not have the dough to buy 
a nut of any kind. 

HENDERSON, MASON, BILLY— Hear! Hear! 

MASON— The nut is mixing his doughnuts. 

TEDDY — With our love and the love of every boy who 
went to yrance.^(He hands her the floral piece.) 

:\IARY ANNE— Oh, it's just too sweet for words. 

THE CROWD— Speech ! Speech I— (Cries of yes- 
six eeli, etc.) 

^lARY ANNE — Oh, 1 can't make a speech, my heart 
is too full — (Her Mother comes clown-) — Mumsey, isn't it 
beautiful. — (Showing her the emblem.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Goodness, child, I'm so choked 
up T can't say a word. — (She takes it.) — I'll put it on the 
organ where everyone can see it. 

MARY ANNE— rro Mrs. Kirldand )—A\m{\e, why 
didn't you tell me? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And spoil the surprise? 

MARY ANNE— r To Pa/'/.?/;— Patty, you dear. I 
want to congratulate you and Teddy. — (Teddy is now R. 
with Patty. Mary Anne gives each a hand.) — I'm just as 
):»leased as I can be. 

TEDDY — Congratulate her Marion. It was a hard 
struggle for her. — (Mary Anne laughs and goes over to 
Billy and Elaine who are together L.) 

MARY ANNE— And Billy and Elaine. I'm so glad 
.\ ou both came. I knew you were in Prance, Billy. You 
were billited within a quarter of a mile of "Old Sal" 
once, I found it out next day after you had gone on. 

BILLY— If I had known it, Mary Anne— I'd luive 
j'isked being shot at sunrise just to shake your hand — 
(Mary Anne laughs and pauses looking at Elaine. There 



100 THE GOLDEN AGE 



is a moment's hesitation and then both girls fling themselves 
into each other's arms and kiss.) 

TEDDY — Hear, hear! — (All laugh. Mary Anne moves 
a little up to Trella and Henderson.) 

MARY ANNE— I saw you both when I got off the 
boat. I felt then as if I wanted to kiss each of you — 

HENDERSON— r^^Aof/ii-;— Do it now. 

T^VtDY— (Shouts)— Ohey that impulse.— f A?/ laugh 
and Mary Anne kisses Trella and pecks at Henderson's 
cheek. Miss Slissy comes down, Mary Anne sees her.) 

MARY ANNE— And Miss Slissy— and Betsy, it isn't 
complete without you. 

MISS SLISSY— Thanks, Mary Anne. I've done my 
best to keep your mother perked up while you was away. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— The young people have brought 
their own banquet with them, M^ary Anne. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I had plenty of eggs and bread 
and jam, but — well, it's all spread out on the dining room 
table. If you'll go in and have chairs, Betsy and me '11 do 
our best to wait on you unless — (To Slissy )—^SRiry, you 
care to help out some, seein ' — 

MISS SLISSY — Nothing would give me greater plea- 
sure Miz Simmonds. Goodness knows I've had experience 
enough at church fairs and one thing or another. — (She 
follows Mrs. Simmonds and Betsy out R.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— r To the l)oys)--V\ii the floral 
piece in the center of the table. 

TEDDY— I'll do that. 

BILLY— No, let me.— (They rush to it all of them..) 

TEDDY — I am the master of the ceremonies. 

MARY A'N^E— (Watching thorn)— Be careful of it 
bovs. 

HENDERSON— I drove it all the way from New York 
without losing a single petal. — (Patty and Trella make signs 
to Elaine, who nods and comes to Mary Anne. The hoys 
are moving to R. with the floral piece ad lihing a little bad- 
inage.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Come evevy one. —(She exits R. 
The boys follawing. Patty and Trella go R. Elaine de- 
tains Mary Anne.) 

ELAINE — "We'll be there in a moment girls. 

PATTY — Don't be \oi\g.—(Mary Anne looks at Elaine 



THE GOCDEN age 101 

curiously.) 

ELAINE— We won't be. — (Patty makes signs to 
Elaine that someone is outside L. Elaine gets this and the 
girls exit R. After they are off Elaine speaks.) — Marion 
I just wanited to tell you how sorry and ■ asliamed I was 
when I learned the truth. 

MARY ANNE— The truth ? 

ELAINE — About my father. I thought at the time 
it was Billy who helped him, but I found out afterward it 
was your Aunt, Mrs. Kirkland and you had asked her to do 
it. You did that for me. Oil, Mary Anne, I have been 
so sorry and ashamed. 

MARY ANNE — I never felt any bitterness toward 
you Elaine. Everything is all right with you now and 
you're going to be happy. I'm glad. 

ELAINE — And our one wish, Billy's and mine — is to 
see you happy, Marion. — (She moves up a little and looks 
off L.) — ^Someone came with us who wants to see you very 
much — (Dick enters the door L. He is in full uniform, a 
Lieutenant.) 

MARY ANNE— Dick ! I_you^this— 

DBOK — Surprised you, did l"^.— (Elaine exits L.) 

MARY ANNE— Why, I didn't know— 

DICK— Didn't think I'd come. Well, I'm here, I've 
taken the initiative, even though you wouldn't answer my 
letter. 

MARY ANNE— I didn't know what to say. 

DICK — Of course I suppose you did feel bad at first 
Marion, and I blame myself for it, really I do, and — 

MARY ANNE— Oh, but you mustn't do it. It wasn't 
your fault. I didn't do what I did on account of — 

DICK — Oh, I know. It's kind and generous of you 
to let me down easy. But after I had gotten myself into 
the mess, I tried — 

MARY ANNE — Oh, please, please. If you came here 
to talk like that, I 'd rather you had not come at all. 

DICK — (Softly. Coming near her-) — I tried to come 
to 3^ou over there in France, but you had gone. Oh, Mary 
Anne, if you would only let me — 

MARY ANNE— Oh, don't say any more— I beg of 
you. Don't — Don't — I can't bear it. You're only saying 
it because you pity me, and I can't listen, I can't — 1 oan't — 



102 THE GOLDEN AGE 

{SJic runs out of the door R. Mrs. Kirkland enters almost 
at file same time and Mary Anne runs past her. Mrs. KirJ:- 
hind looks at Dick and enters the room.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (To Dick.)— Well, what in tlie 
name of all that's giood, Dickie Stanhope, where on eartli 
did yon come from, and what are yon doing liere ? 

DI'CK — Pine. I appear to he abont as popular as a 
Polar bear at a picnic. — (Mrs. Simmonds and Befsj/ and 
Patty enter.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What do yon expect from Mary 
Anne after writing her the way yon did. 

DICK — I've apologized a hundred times, I can do no 
more. I said I was sorry. 

MRS. KIRKLAND^But the more you said that, the 
worse it got. 

DTCK — The worse what got? Wliy is Marion so — 
She knows about Billy and Elaine now. What — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— They had nothing to do with it. 
She and Billy had settled their difficulties before she left 
for France. 

DICK — Then why didn't she answer my letter? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What could she say to a thing 
like that? — (Hands him the letter Mary Anne gave her.) 

DICK — (Looks at it.) — No. not tliis one — the other 
one. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— What other one? 

DICK — Why the one that caused the trouble. You 
mean to say she never received it — -Why, Auntie, I wrote 
her a letter from Canada just before we sailed, I told her 
^I thought that letter^I thought Billy had seen it. I 
told her things I shouldn't have said perhaps, but I couldn't 
help it — 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Wliere did yon send it. 

DICK— Here. Teddy had a wire from Patty that 
Marion was at home. I remember it well, it was written 
on Hotel stationery. Chateau Frontenac, at Quebec. It 
was a patent sort of an affair, looked like a card, the whole 
sheet folded together and — 

BETSY— f Cowing c?o?r/(j— Did it have a pretty pic- 
ture of a waterfalls on the back of it ? 

DICK— Yes. 

BETSY— I got it, I thought it was just an advertise- 



THE GOLDEN AGE 103 



luent. It's in tlie tobacco jar. — (She poinds to the shelf R. 
Mrs. KirMmid goes for the jar.) 

MRS. STMMONDS— AVhat in tlie world did you ever 
put it in there for? 

BETSY— You told me too. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— T did. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, here it is. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— r To Betsy)— Whixt do vn\ mean? 
I told you to ? 

BETSY— One day I got that from the box at the front 
gate, and I came to you and I said, here's an advertise- 
ment post card for Mary Anne, shall I give it to her? And 
you said, certainly not, stick it in Mr. Simmonds old to- 
bacco jar on the mantel shelf, that's where it belongs, and 
so I did. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land Sakes, that girl will be the 
death of me. I can't say a thing to her that she don't 
take me literal. 

DICK— That's it all right. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— (To Dick)— And you said— you 
told her— all you've told me? 

DICK — More Auntie — much more. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Then you clear out. Hide around 
the corner of the porch, I'll send for Marion and see if this 
letter will clear the atmosphere somewhat. Betsy, run up 
to Mary Anne's room and say that Mr. Stanhope has gone 
anil I want her at once. Don't say anvthing else. 

BETSY— No' m.—f.^//r move.ijR.) ' 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Mind you get it right. Say that 
Mr. Stanhope has gone. 

•BETSY— Yes'sum. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— And don't come back. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Don't say that, she'll stay away 
forever. — (To Betsy) — 'She means right awav. 

BETSY— Yes \\m.—(She exits R.) 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Patty, you go in with the others, 
and don't let on that anything has happened. 

PATTY— Trust me.— (She exHs R.) 

DICK — (Going L.) — If there's no hope after sIk^M 
read that letter. Auntie Kirk — step to the door and give 
me the tip. I'll climb the hedge and vanish. 

MRS. KIRKLAND— I believe there will ])e. 



104 THE GOLDEN AGE '" 

DICK — I'll be right at the corner, by the rain water 
l)aiTel. — (He exits L.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Land ! I wonder if he knows 
about Betsy? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Perhaps Mary Anne should have 
"■iven him that treatment, long ago. — (She laughs.) 

MRS. SIMMONDS— Don't talk foolishness. 

MRS. KIRKLAND — Amanda, when Marion comes 
down try to look innocent and unconcerned, as though noth- 
ing had happened. 

MRS. SIMMONDS— I'll go back to the young folks in 
the dining room, I don't know a thing. — (She exits R. Out- 
side R. site meets Mary Anne.) — Go on in the sitting room 
child. Your Auntie wants to talk to you. No, it's all right. 
lie ain't there. — (Mary Anne enters R.) 

MARY ANNE— Has he gone? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Yes, child, and I've found out 
what puzzled me about his letter. 

MARY ANNE— What ? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Dick wrote you on leaving Can- 
ada. It was this letter he thought had caused the trouble 
l)etween you and Billy. But you never received it. Betsy, 
thought it was a post card and situck it in the tobacco jar 
;ind there it's been ever since. — (She hands her the tetter.) 

MARY ANNE— A letter from Dick— to me? 

MRS. KIRKLAND— Postmarked Quebec, Can., June 
28th, \mi.—(Mary Anne sits R. of taNe C. reading th^e 
letter. Mrs. Kirkland steals out of door R. Marjj Anne's 
fare hrigJitens as she proceeds — Dick enters L. and watches 
tier. She, delighted with the letter gives an e.rdamation 
without knowing he is there-) 

MARY A'^^E— (Looking at letter. Delighted.)— Oh. 
Dick. 

DICK— Yes, ma'am. 

MARY A'^NE— (Rising)— Good Gracious. 

DICK— f To her.)— Am I forgiven? 

MARY ANNE — Oif course you are. — (He takes her in 
Jiis arms and kisses her. The crowd, headed by Teddy, en- 
ter R. .nnging — "We're looking for a Shell." They circle 
about the pair, who hold embrace C.) 

THE CURTAIN. 



¥" 



Printed in Canada by 

GEO. H. POPHAM, Limited 

124 Queen Street 

Ottawa 

1919 



